


Aquamarine

by MissWia



Series: 366 Days of Writing [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, F/F, F/M, Gender Fluid Character, Horror, M/M, Magic Hobbits, Platonic Relationships, Underage - Freeform, Vampires, dark themes, deer!bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 34,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWia/pseuds/MissWia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thousand threads woven into a tapestry, a thousand stories collide in life.</p><p>Month Three of my 366 Days of Writing Series. Tags will be added as needed. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fili/Thorin

**Author's Note:**

> Let's start March off with a request. Some Fili/Thorin with a happy ending. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thousand threads woven into a tapestry, a thousand stories collide in life.
> 
> Month Three of my 366 Days of Writing Series. Tags will be added as needed. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's start March off with a request. Some Fili/Thorin with a happy ending. Enjoy!

It was a good day!

That was Fili's thought on the matter at least. The sun was shining, the air was warm with spring, and he had just done his civic duty and cast his vote for the primary election. Nothing could go wrong!

Or so he thought.

As he exited to polling building and made his way to his car he saw a man standing beside it, leaning against another vehicle. He had dark hair that was streaking in silver with a closely cropped beard and an expensive looking suit. Normally, such a handsome specimen of a man would have Fili very interested. However, the sight of red tote bag with the words SMAUG FOR PRESIDENT written in gold on the side had any interest he may have had in the man turn sour.

"Excuse me," he grumbled quite rudely as he passed him to get to his car. The man simply stood from his casual lean and let him by.

Now, any other day Fili would have simply ignored the man past his initial reaction and go about his day, perhaps a little bit less joyful. Today, however, he stopped.

Turning around, he gave the stranger a stern look.

"Are you seriously voting for Smaug," he asked, letting obvious distaste color his words.

The man looked at him with raised brows.

"Pardon?"

"Smaug, the dragon of a man who people actually think is a viable candidate to run our country? The man who is only interested in the accumulation of personal wealth and not at all the well being of the people, something he has managed to hide in his campaign with anger and propaganda?"

The man seemed unmoved by his speech.

"And who do you think is a good candidate? Thranduil?"

Fili scoffed.

"Thranduil's politics have always pandered to the popular opinion of the time. Twenty years ago is was that invading the Easterlings was a just cause and marriage was to stay between a man and a woman. Now he claims to have always been against the former and in support of the latter. Unfortunately, that seems to be working for his campaign as well."

The man watched him, face stoic but a faint twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Fili wasn't sure he liked it aimed at him.

"You don't look old enough to remember twenty years back," he replied.

"That doesn't mean I can't do my research and read up on each candidate."

The older man gave a conceding shrug, but continued on.

"So, you aren't in favor of Smaug and you aren't in favor of Thranduil. Who does that leave left?"

"Aragon Estel," he answered without hesitance. The dark haired man gave a soft hum in acknowledgment of his answer.

"Isn't he a little young to run a country?"

Fili rolled his eyes.

"No younger than when Theoden Eorl ran and won, thirty years back. And age doesn't necessarily mean experience. Smaug has had no hand in politics until recently, while Aragorn has been actively involved since he was in University. He campaigned for the rights of the lower class and refugees from the beginnings and had organized successful protests with the LGBT+ community. His plan for tax and economic reform is based on sound mathematics and statistics that will bring this country out of debt and generate new job growth. And his foreign policy is based on peaceful negotiations versus the aggressive maneuvering of the past."

His words became more and more impassioned as he spoke, ending with his wildly gesturing with his hands and his voice raising. Not to a shout, but it was close.

The stranger watched him with a new look. Not quite amused as it was fond? Fili wasn't quite sure what to call it.

"You seem very enthusiastic about Aragon's campaign," he observed. Fili nodded.

"He is the only candidate who advocates for the people and not the wealthy and powerful."

The dark haired man gave him a half smile.

"I can respect that," he said.

Fili gave him a soft smile in return.

"Have I convinced you to vote for somebody else," he dared to ask.

The stranger laughed.

"I was never voting to Smaug to begin with," he answered. Fili's brow furrowed in confusion.

"But your bag?"

"Thorin! I'm done, let's get going," a new voice shouted, interrupting their conversation. An old man with a long grey beard hobbled up to them, a determined smirk on his face.

"Have you voted, Grandfather," the stranger, Thorin, asked.

The older man puffed up in pride.

"I sure did! For our future president, Smaug Dragoon!"

Fili felt his face burn with embarrassment. The tote didn't belong to this Thorin, it belonged to his grandfather. Feeling like an utter fool, he turned back to his car and fumbled with his keys.

He heard the older man climb into the passenger seat of his car, still rambling on and on about how Smaug would make their country great again, before the door shut and muffled the talk.

Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, he faced Thorin again. He was watching him with obvious amusement now.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions and even if I had been right, it wasn't okay of me to go off on you like that."

"Apology accepted."

Fili gave him a tight smile and a nod of farewell, now determined to get into his car and drive far, far from there. Thorin's voice stopped him.

"Aragon, by the way."

He glanced back at him in confusion.

"What?"

The older man smirked.

"That's who I'm voting for. You're right, he's the best candidate for the job. Though I would be happy to discuss this with you more over coffee."

Fili felt himself flush. He had just spent the past five minutes lecturing the man on why he thought his perceived choice of candidate was wrong and his response was to ask him to coffee?

"Yes," he found himself blurting out, unable to stop himself. The man's smirk widened.

"Thorin Durin," he introduced, offering him his hand.

"Fili Vinson," he replied, shaking the hand shyly.

"So, Fili. How about we exchange numbers and I'll give you a call about that coffee date."

The blond man smiled.

"I would like that."

Still a good day.


	2. ThorinxBilbo Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin hated forests. Of course Gandalf's burglar would live in one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy a multi-part story featuring Thorin and Bilbo! :)

Thorin hated forests. They were dark, dank, and smelled of constant rot. Mountains were far superior, in his own opinion. He conveniently ignored the fact that two of the three reasons he hated forests could also be applied to mountains, but that was a topic for another time. Right now he was in a forest, which he hated very much.

"What reason do you have for bringing us here," he growled at Gandalf, angrily swatting at a low hanging branch that blocked his path. Vile thing!

"The quest you undertake in dangerous enough as it is, there is no reason to tempt fate by going in a group numbered thirteen. Horribly unlucky," the wizard replied bluntly, easily traversing the crowded forest despite his great size. "Also, you are in need to a decent burglar, one who can pass beneath a dragon's nose undetected. The one I had in mind just so happens to live in this forest."

This had, of course, all been explained to Thorin many times before. However, the further they traveled into the woods the more he was convinced it was a bad idea. He wasn't the only one either. Dwalin was equally put off by the forest, clenching one of his axes tightly.

"This doesn't feel right," the warrior growled to his king, eyes shifting from shadow to shadow. "Something is following us, I'm sure of it."

Thorin didn't deny his instincts, having the same feeling himself. A pair of eyes watching their every movement from the darkness. It was unnerving.

"What sort of manner is this burglar of yours? Not an elf," he warned, cautiously moving forward. Gandalf rolled his eyes at the words.

"No, Master Oakenshield, he is no elf. He is a hobbit," he replied simply. That didn't answer Thorin's question at all. He had no idea in hell what a _hobbit_ was, but he imagined it couldn't be good if it lived in such a horrid place like this forest. He told Gandalf as much.

The wizard stopped and glared down at the dwarf.

"You best watch your words here, Thorin Oakenshield. Hobbits can move unseen where others cannot and do not take kindly to being insulted. They can be quite a handful when crossed."

Thorin, being the stubborn creature that he was, ignored his advice.

"I doubt such any forest dwelling creature could go against the might of dwarves," he boasted.

"Aye," Dwalin heartily agreed, flexing his arms menacingly. There was a small echo of agreement from the rest of their companions. Thorin smirked triumphantly at Gandalf, as if he won a great debate over the wizard. However, the feeling of his arms moving on his own wiped the smirk off his face quickly.

With a startled gasp, his body began to twirl and jump madly, all without his permission. Frantically he glanced around and saw it was the same with his companions, each dancing madly as if puppets controlled by string. His first thought was that this was the wizard's doing, a trick in response of their prideful words. That wasn't the case, though. The wizard, thought unaffected, was glaring into the woods as if the source lay there. In Thorin's mad twirling he saw nothing.

"Bilbo Baggins stop this at once," the wizard bellowed, seemingly to no one. But the moment his words were shouted Thorin felt control return to his body. With reflexes honed from years of exile he unsheathed his sword and closed ranks with the others, forming a tight circle as they assessed the threat. But they saw no one, only shadows and leaves.

"What darkness is in this forest," he hissed, glaring at the woods.

Gandalf huffed.

"No darkness, just mischievous trickery. Hobbit magic at its finest. You are all quite safe," he reassured them. Thorin wasn't comforted in the least.

The wizard ignored the still defensive dwarves and spoke again:

"Come out, Bilbo. It's rude to spy from the shadows."

The dwarves tense at the sound of a humorless snort coming from the bush, ready to attack the no doubt fierce creature that hide there. Instead an intelligent voice replied in an unamused tone.

"You speak of rudeness but you are the one bringing thirteen strangers into the Shire, Gandalf. Lucky it was me who found you all and not Lobelia. She wouldn't be as kind as I have been," it said.

Thorin glared in the direction the voice came from, not twenty paces before him.

"That was kindness? Controlling our bodies and inducing them to madness," he growled, stepping forward threateningly with his sword raised. He ignored Gandalf's hum of disapproval.

Another snort came from the shadows, followed by a naked torso and curly head that rose from the bushes. Two green and unamused eyes met his own blue ones.

"You have not had the misfortune of meeting my dear cousin. She would have had you all turn your weapons on each other. So yes, I am a kindness," he (and it was plainly male) replied.

Thorin stared at him for a moment, not quite sure he was seeing what he was seeing. The creature looked like a human child, if human children had pointed ears and what looked like antlers poking up through their curls. It wore no clothing from the waist up, it's baked chest spattered with freckles and sun kissed skin.

"Come out of there at once, Bilbo. Greet us properly," Gandalf insisted, leaning on his staff as watched the creature.

Bilbo snorted again, but did as asked. Gasps were heard from the Company as he fully revealed himself. His torso may have looked human, as was did his face save his ears and antlers, but his complete lower half was that of a deer. Four hoofed legs gracefully navigated out of the brush, covered in a soft brown fur that ran along his back, mixed with white spots that ended in a small tail. He was like nothing Thorin had ever seen.

"What are you," he asked, suspicion clear in his voice.

The creature turned to glare at him, green eyes swirling with magic.

"I am hobbit of the Shire, dwarf. My name is Bilbo Baggins and you are unwelcome in my home," he replied, one of his front legs stamping angrily.

"Gandalf said we were expected," he growled back, though he saw said wizard sheepishly smile at the comment.

"Never trust a wizard, as they are likely to answer with yes and no," Bilbo replied. Thorin couldn't deny his words. Gandalf took insult, however.

"Bilbo Baggins, that is no way to treat a dear friend of your mother. Now, we are your guests, unannounced as we are, and would very much like a warm meal. It is nearing supper time, I believe."

The hobbit bristled at the comment. He looked as if he wanted to deny Gandalf's request and send them off, perhaps with his own brand of magic. A tense moment passed, but at last the hobbit gave a stiff nod.

"Follow me," he instructed before turning around and walking back into the woods.

Thorin hesitated, but at Gandalf's insistent look began walking after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first deer!Bilbo story. I love this AU, especially in MilkTeaMiku's A Year of Writing series. Stay tuned for the next part!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all, though it takes time for me to answer them all. Thanks for reading!


	3. ThorinxBilbo Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventuring wasn't what Bilbo expected. Neither was his relationship with Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of yesterday's story.

Adventuring wasn't what Bilbo had expected it to be. For one thing there was hardly anything to eat, forcing him to forage as they walked and make do with chewing on leaves as until they settled down for dinner. For another, being chased by goblins and dwarves at all hours of the day and night was not a fun experience. He was very grateful Gandalf's eagles arrived when they did or he was sure they would be goners.

"Could have arrived a bit sooner," he mumbled to himself as he carefully cleaned the wound on his side. The warg had been much larger than him, though that didn't stop him from facing it head on. Literally. He was lucky his antlers hadn't broke, though that was where his luck ended. The horrid beast had managed to get a good swipe in before he gave it a good wallop with his own magic.

The eagles had left them near enough to a stream, something he was quite grateful for. The water would wash away any infection that might set in his wounds as well as clean his fur of the rest of the filth he had accumulated. If only it were warm.

He took advantage of their location, something the others had not done just yet. Another thing to be grateful for. He had just enough of dwarves for one life time, thank you very much. Peace is what he needed now.

Twisting his torso as best as he could, he carefully dabbed at the claw mark running down his side. It wasn't deep, and he doubted it would scar, but it sure did sting. It was so long as well that he couldn't reach the whole thing, try as he might. He was just about to give up and simply dunk himself into the water (which would hurt terribly) when the sound of heavy, booted feet caught his attention.

Turning around he saw Thorin walk out of the brush, hesitate at the sight of him, before continuing on.

"You have been down here awhile," the dwarf spoke as he approached him. "I thought to come check on you."

Bilbo stiffly nodded, still unsure of where he stood with the dwarf king. Their relationship hadn't been a friendly one this whole journey, a blame placed on both parties. However, saving/being saved by a person did force you to make a change. The hobbit understood this. He just didn't know what that change was yet.

"I was having a small bath," he replied, gesturing to the water. The dwarf nodded, his own just as stiff as Bilbo's.

"You're injured," he observed.

"As are you."

The warg had done an equal number of Thorin, tossing him about like a rag doll. It couldn't have been pleasant.

"Oin has seen to me. You should let him help you."

Bilbo wrinkled his nose in distaste. Nothing against Oin, he was a decent enough fellow. However, Bilbo had seen some of his treatments and medical concoctions. Brutal and nasty things, hardly suitable for the delicate bodies of hobbits.

"Thank you, but I'm alright. I just need to clean it and I will be fine."

He continued to do just that, hoping his deliberate move away from the conversation would be enough of a hint to Thorin that he could leave. It wasn't.

"Let me help," the dwarf said instead, quickly grabbing the small rag from Bilbo's hands and pressing it against the part he had yet to clean. The hobbit hissed in pain, shying away from his touch.

"Gently!"

Thorin stopped at his admonishment, before resuming at a much more delicate pace. It still stung, but was far more bearable than before.

They say together in silence, with Thorin carefully cleaning his wounds and Bilbo allowing him to do so. After awhile Thorin spoke.

"Thank you," he said, causing Bilbo to turn his head to watch him. The dwarf's eyes remained on his work. "For standing against Azog when I couldn't."

It certainly wasn't what he had been expecting. From the very beginning Bilbo knew Thorin was a proud dwarf. To say thanks to someone he liked was a hard enough task. To say it to Bilbo must have been near impossible. It was certainly a positive development in their relationship.

"You don't need to thank me. I just did what anyone one of us would do," he replied. It was the truth. If they hadn't been hanging out of a tree dangling over a cliff, the other dwarves would have beaten Bilbo to Azog. This time the hobbit had been in the right place at the right time, simple as that. Thorin didn't see it this way however.

"They would have done it out of loyalty to me as their king. I am not your king. I haven't even shown you great kindness on this journey, yet you defended me regardless. You could have died."

Bilbo could see his point. Had he not been equally surprised when Thorin had willingly dropped his weapon when he had been held aloft by those trolls? Or when he saved him from falling off the mountainside during the thunder battle with the stone giants? Perhaps they had each misjudged the other far greater than imagined.

That new revelation made Bilbo's next words far easier to say.

"That is what friends do. They protect each other, even if it means getting hurt in the process."

Thorin looked up at him in surprise, as if he didn't quite believe the words he spoke. His surprise quickly melted into understanding, though, a soft smile gracing his face.

"Aye. That's what friends do."

He returned to cleaning Bilbo's side, letting silence fall between them once more. It was quite peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all! Thanks for reading.


	4. Tauriel/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid met the strange woman late one night. Since then she could not stop thinking of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I have written no femslash stories. That just didn't seem right. So here you are! My first, but certainly not my last, story featuring two ladies. A Tauriel/Sigrid vampire piece set in Victorian times, though the latter isn't elaborated much on. Enjoy!

It was far too late for a young woman to be out alone. The sun had long since fallen and Sigrid should have been home with her father and siblings. Unfortunately, Master Smaug had been in a vicious mood that day and had all his servants working to the bone. She was lucky to leave when she did. Others were still there, hurrying to please their master.

Wrapping her shawl more securely around her frame, she kept her head down and her pace steady. The sooner she arrived at home the sooner she could have a bite to eat and fall into bed. The thought of a good nights rest was so appealing it distracted her from her walk and caused her to rudely bump another late night wandered.

"Oh, excuse me," she apologized, looking up at the person she ran into. To her surprise it was another woman, dressed in a far finer gown than what she wore, red hair piled elegantly atop her head. She was quite beautiful, with finely carved features and a swan like neck. She watched Sigrid with stoic brown eyes, eyes that seemed older than possible.

Uncertain of what to do, Sigrid dipped into a small curtesy.

"Forgive me, madam. I was not watching where I was going."

When she looked up again she thought she saw the smallest hint of a smile on the other woman's lips, as if she was amused by her actions.

"All is well," she replied, voice low and cultured. "No harm was done. Good evening."

With that she continued walking, leaving Sigrid alone. The blonde woman watched the stranger until her shadow was consumed by the dark. Only when she was completely gone from sight did she resume her journey home, though now she could only think of her. There was something different about her, though Sigrid couldn't quite put her finger on what.

That night she dreamt of her, the strange woman with the red hair.

XxxX

Strange news began to circulate the town in the next few weeks. People disappearing without a trace in the night and animals acting wild for no reason, as if a predator stalked them. Sigrid paid little heed to it all though. Instead her thoughts were consumed with the woman. She looked for her everywhere, in the market, during church service, when she ran errands for Master Smaug. She never saw her though.

At night, when she was alone in her bed, she would think about her. How her pale skin shined in the moonlight or how her hair would feel when released from its bindings. In her dreams she heard her voice, whispering softly into her ear. She could never recall exactly what she said to her in her dreams when she woke, only that it was the sweet and alluring and she wanted more of it.

Once the dream felt far to real and she woke in a flustered mess. Her candle had long since burned down but she swore she saw a shape in the corner, like a woman standing guard over her bed. She had hurried to light another candle and reveal the space. There was no one there. She couldn't help but feel disappointed. She wanted someone to be there, she wanted it to be the woman. How she longed to see her again.

She got her wish.

It was another late night as she walked home from her work. Her bones were aching from all the scrubbing and washing she had done that day, and like before all she wished to do was reach home and bed. Unfortunately, it would be awhile yet.

"What 'ave we here? Pretty young lady on an evenin' constitution alone? Not a smart move," a greasy voice sneered at her. Startled, she turned around just in time to see a thin, horrid looking man step out from the alley she had just passed. He leered at her, showing off yellow teeth that matched his sallow skin.

Sigrid took a step back from him, ready to grab her skirts and run in she needed to.

"Excuse me, sir, my father is expecting me  
home and I am late already. I cannot dally," she firmly stated. The man chuckled darkly, walking closer to her. She kept stepping back.

"Come on, darlin'. Yer ol'man won't care if yer a little late. Come 'ere and keep me company," he said, licking his lips.

A cold knot of fear coiled in her belly. She had heard of stories of these sorts of things, the things that happened to young woman who were out late without an escort. She just never expected herself to be in such a situation.

"Leave me alone or I'll scream," she warned. She knew she wouldn't be able to out run the man, not as worn as she was from her days work. She only hoped her words would deter him.

They didn't.

"Go ahead and scream yer pretty lil' head off, girl. No one can save ya now," he cruelly laughed, advancing on her.

With all the speed she had she grabbed her skirts and made a run for it, screaming all the while.

"HELP! PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

The sound of nearing footsteps told her she was being chased and without thinking she dashed down an alley. Perhaps she could lose him in the dark.

She didn't.

Coming to a dead end, she let out an anguished sob and turned around. The man was right behind her, eyes alight with a horrible hunger.

"Got ya," he hissed.

She closed her eyes and lifted her arms to protect herself. Her never reached her though.

The sound of a body being thrown against the building wall had her opening her eyes in surprise. The man was being held against the wall by a stranger, eyes wide in pain and fear. Not just any stranger though. It was the woman.

And her teeth were sunk into his neck.

Sigrid watched in horrid fascination as blood dripped from the man's neck and onto the ground, though the majority of it was obviously being drunk by the woman. She sank to the ground as the whole situation truly settled in her mind.

She had almost been raped only to be saved by the woman she had been dreaming of, but that woman was now drinking the blood of her would-be rapist. Would she do the same to Sigrid?

As if sensing her thoughts, the strange woman released the hold she had on the now dead man, letting him drop like a sack of rotten potatoes. She fished a handkerchief from her pocket and delicately cleaned the blood from her mouth.

She then turned to her.

"Are you alright," she asked. Sigrid couldn't find it in her to answer, scared as she was. The woman didn't seem to take any offense.

She approached her and knelt down. Instinctively Sigrid moved away.

"What is your name, girl?"

She asked it so simply that this time Sigrid couldn't help but reply.

"Sigrid Bowman."

The woman smiled softly at her.

"Sigrid. I am Tauriel. You are safe now."

Sigrid felt herself relax ever so slightly.

"You won't kill me," she wondered, eyes flitting to the dead man behind them.

Tauriel shook her head.

"No, dear Sigrid. Not to you."

She had no reason to trust her, and yet she did. Fully and without reservations.

Scooting forward, she gave her a small smile.

"Thank you," she shyly said. "For saving me."

Tauriel seemed surprised at her words.

"You are thanking a monster for killing a monster," she asked amusedly.

Sigrid thought on the question. It was true, this woman wasn't human with her strength and lust for blood. Yet for some reason, the word monster didn't quite fit Tauriel. She told her as much.

"A monster would have let him take me against my will. You didn't. You are not a monster."

Tauriel laughed softly as she reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind Sigrid's ear. The young woman held her breath at the gesture, savoring the feeling of those cool fingers brushing ever so softly against the shell of her ear.

"Such naive words. You don't know the evil things I have done, girl."

Frowning, Sigrid grabbed the hand that still held her head with her own.

"You saved me," she said again, more firmly. "You are not a monster."

The red haired woman paused, studying her closely as if looking for something hidden. Sigrid stared back, blue eyes into brown. At last Tauriel seemed to find what she was looking for, as she smiled gently at her and ducked her head.

"Not a monster then."

With that she stood up, dragging her hand from Sigrid's grip. She looked down at her, face now a mask of stoicism.

"Head home now, dear Sigrid. I may not be a monster if your eyes, but there are others yet about."

Nodding, the blonde woman picked herself up from the ground. She was the fully standing, Tauriel began to walk away.

"Wait," Sigrid called out. The woman stopped and turned to her.

"Will I ever see you again?"

Tauriel gave her a mysterious smirk.

"If you wish, dear Sigrid."

She then disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty tame for my first femslash, just hints really. I promise to write something more obvious soon. Just getting used to the pairing for now.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	5. Kili/Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili knew Bard had feelings for him, feelings that he returned. Kili always got what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a Kili/Bard story. Sorry for the wait! Can you guess the inspiration? ;) Of course, this is a modern setting. At least, when I wrote it that's what I had in mind. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!

Kili knew Bard had feelings for him. He had known from the minute they first met, at the older man had mumbled a greeting before brushing by him to finish his chores. The funny thing was, Kili returned his feelings. At first he had thought the little crush was cute and would order the man to do the most ridiculous chores because he knew he would do them without question.

"Why do you torment the stable hand," his uncle Thorin asked him one night during dinner. Bard hadn't complained to his boss, but that didn't mean Thorin approved of his nephew's antics.

"Because he never says no," Kili laughed in reply. Thorin frowned at the answer, but didn't tell him he should stop.

"Selfish child," was all he said before returning to his peas.

Back then, it had all been a game. That was before he realized that somehow, during his fun, he had fallen for the man as well.

The problem was that Bard, being the ridiculously wonderful and proper sort of man that he was, wouldn't act on his feelings, despite the fact they were mutual. Apparently, having a romantic involvement with his bosses nephew, a nephew that was younger by ten years, was inappropriate. Kili didn't think so, which meant he would out of his way to tempt the man until he snapped and said to hell with his manners.

First he tried something subtle.

"Bard, help me mount my horse," he ordered, standing alongside his chestnut mare. Tauriel stamped her foot anxiously, eager to be out and galloping through the property.

Bard set down the pitchfork he had been using to clean the stalls and came to stand alongside him. He knelt down and offered him his linked fingers.

"As you wish," he said.

Kili placed his boot in the hand and let the man boost him up into he saddle. He felt the heat pouring off of Bard through his riding breeches, shivering slightly at the feeling. He looked down at the man from his perch, pleased to see that he was looking back with slightly hooded eyes. Bard made no other move though.

"That's all," he grumbled, before giving his mount a swift kick and taking off.

Subtly wasn't going to work, so the next time he bypassed it all together.

He chose his next move with care. It was raining, a warm and gentle summer storm. Far too wet for any riding. That didn't stop him from entering the stables though.

"I'm soaked," he announced, catching Bard's attention. He carefully peeled his shirt from his back, revealing the pale, taunt skin beneath.

"Bard, take this to the laundry room," he commanded, holding his sopping shirt in one hand.

The dark haired man approached him, stopping until he was near flush with the young man. Kili saw his eyes dart to his chest for the briefest moment before raising back to meet his gaze. The young man couldn't stop the challenging smirk from gracing his face. He offered him the wet shirt.

Bard took it.

For a brief moment they just stood there, chests nearly touching. Kili felt his breath quicken and for a second he was sure Bard would kiss him. He didn't.

He simply ducked his head and huskily replied:

"As you wish."

Then turned and walked away.

Kili watched him leave, disappointment coiling in his stomach. He desperately wanted that kiss and his patience was near its end.

The next day he went to the barn again. It was midday and far too hot to do any chores outside the barn. That meant Bard was inside, probably in the hayloft getting ready to clean the stalls.

The young man tried there first. His guess was right.

Bard stood there, amongst the sweet smelling hay, carefully shoveling the piles into more manageable ones. He didn't see Kili at first.

"Bard," he called out, getting the man's attention.

Bard turned to him, sticking his pitchfork into a nearby bale. Kili approached him, stopping only when they were nearly pressed together. He looked up at the man, brown eyes gazing into blue. The older man had a few inches on him, but he noted it wasn't an awkward difference. Just enough that, if Kili wanted to, he could tuck his head beneath his chin and feel very comfortable.

"Kiss me."

The command was said just like every other he gave Bard. Demanding and nearly childish, but like the rest the other man couldn't refuse it.

Bard ducked down, lips hovering just over his own.

"As you wish."


	6. Thranduil/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He woke up to darkness, chained to a stiff bed. He had no memory of how he got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, horror themed Thranduil/Thorin. Thank you for being so patient. I hope you like it.

He woke up to pitch black. He had to blink a few times, feel his lashes against his eyelids as the fell up and down, to assure himself that his eyes were open. They were and he could see nothing. With his main sense failing him, he had to relay on the others.

He felt that he was laying on a stiff bed, springs poking into his back through the thin mattress. With every movement he made he heard it creak and squeak from his weight. He smelt damp, musty and cold. It made him shiver and realize that he was dressed in thin clothing with no blanket. He tried to sit up, but found he couldn't. His arms were above his head, chained to a thin but strong rail. His legs were similarly bound.

Thranduil felt panic coil in his stomach. He was trapped.

Taking a shaky breath in, he tried to recall how he got here. He remembered stay in late at the station, pouring over his files as he tried to put the pieces together on his latest case. Three missing persons, all men of various ages. 25, 32, and 38. All single, but friends spoke of them meeting someone new recently. Someone that sent them over the moon and had them fawning over them. Thranduil was sure it was the same man, though none of his interviewees could give him a description. None of them had ever met him or had even been shown a picture.

"Bilbo told me he was shy and that he needed sometime before he met someone new," Ori Reson had explained apologetically. "I didn't think to question that reason. I'm shy myself."

"My brother said he didn't like taking pictures. Said he thought they ruined the moment in today's social media driven world," Kili had said, frustration leaking into his words. His brother had been the latest missing, having failed to return home one night after meeting with this mysterious new man.

"To be perfectly honest, officer, I've lost hope that my nephew is alive. All I want now is for you to catch the bastard who took him and see that he's brought to justice," Theoden confessed. Eomer had been missing for nearly six months and had been the first reported. Back then they hadn't suspected anything more than a date gone bad. Now they knew better.

"Eowyn deserves closure."

It was nearly 3 am when he finally gave up for the night and decided to head home. He was the only on the roads, the rest of the population far more sensible than he was and in their beds and homes. He had been distracted while driving, thoughts consumed with the case.

They had a profile made up of their kidnapped.

A man of some wealth, between the ages of 30 and 40. Single and with no family, he was used to being in control and preferred to keep it that way. That was it though.

It was enough though. They had a list is suspects that fit the bill. Azog, a former war profiteer turned gang leader. Smaug, a ruthless business tycoon that was suspected of using very illegal means to get to the top. Sauron, a man coming from old money and whose family mysterious died years back, leaving him the sole heir of an enormous fortune.

All of them had been investigated and each came back clean. Thranduil was sure none of them were involved, at least in this case. He was sure they were missing something important, but couldn't figure out what. He was sure that when he did it would crack the case wide open.

He saw the dog too late, dashing across the dark road and forcing him to swerve. His last memory was hitting a tree and falling unconscious as a pair of headlights from another car shined on him. Then nothing.

Now he was alone, in the darkness and with no means of escape.

The sound of a door opening had him tensing and the sudden light had him flinching back into the matters.

The overhead light was just a bulb, yellow and so old that it buzzed and flickered.

Turning his head, he squinted at the hulking silhouette in the door. He couldn't make out any discerning features, only his formidable size.

"Are you comfortable," the figure asked, in a voice that was both deep and mesmerizing. Thranduil was sure he had heard it before.

"The chains could go," he replied dryly. He needed to keep the man talking. It would give him more time, which would keep him alive for longer. There was no way of knowing how long he had been missing, but someone would sure to come across his wrecked car soon enough and the rest of the station would something foul had happened.

The man chuckled fondly at his words.

"You have a dry wit. I like that. Bilbo had a dry wit."

The past tense verbiage had him tensing.

"He's dead then?"

The man sighed, walking toward him.

"Yes. He was plotting against me. They all were. They didn't understand and betrayed me. They had to go."

Thranduil was now able to see the man clearly, his features illuminated in the harsh, yellow light.

"Oakenshield."

The man, Thorin Oakenshield, smiled down at him. The missing piece of his case was here, the connection he had missed.

Each victim had met their mysterious man in a bank, specifically Erebor. Owned and run by the ridiculously wealthy and handsome Thorin Oakenshield, a man who had won the bank back from Smaug, who had taken it from his grandfather. A grandfather lost to madness, an ailment that obviously ran in the family. Thranduil had even interviewed him, asking if he saw anything amiss. The man had fooled him.

Thorin reached out, carding his hands through Thranduil's hair.

"So perfect," he muttered softly, entranced by the way the locks fell through his fingers. "Like gold freshly minted."

Thranduil carefully watched him as he continued to pet his hair, forcing himself not to react to the touch. He was at a disadvantage here and couldn't risk angering his captor.

"How did they betray you?"

His question had the other man tensing, anger contorting his face to something hideous and vile. His hand clenched at Thranduil's hair, causing him to wince as the hairs were ripped from his grip.

"They tried to leave! To take what was rightfully mind. The gold that was mine. They didn't understand that I meant to share it with them. I was betrayed," he snarled, overcome with his madness.

Then he was calm, smiling down at Thranduil.

"Not you though. No, you won't do what they did. I'm sure of it."

With one last caress, the man turned and walked out the door, shutting the light off as he left. Thranduil was once again alone in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? This is my first attempt at writing a horror story. I don't know, it seemed a little predictable to me. Maybe that's just because, as the writer, I knew what to expect.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	7. Fili/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili had planned the perfect date for them. Unfortunately, he didn't take into account the younger siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a Fili/Sigrid story at the beach. I wrote this in a rush, so I'm sorry for any mistakes made. Enjoy!

Fili arrived at Sigrid's house with an eager grin and a plan. After weeks of careful flirting and acceptable wooing, the girl of his dreams finally said yes to a date with him, and it was going to be perfect. Already the day was shaping up to be a great one. The weather forecasted warm sunshine and clear skies, just the right conditions for a day at the beach. He had a picnic packed (curtesy of his wonderful Uncle Bilbo), a beach blanket and umbrella, numerous ice breakers in case the conversation ran dry, and a swimsuit that wouldn't get lost in the surf if the waves became to rough. Nothing could go wrong!

He approached the front door of the small house with confidence, ringing the doorbell once and rocking back on his flip-flopped feet. His excitement was nearly bubbling out of his ears!

The door opened, revealing a frazzled looking Sigrid, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Fili," she grimaced. "I tried to call you. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel our date."

The young man felt his excitement plummet.

"Oh," was all he could say in reply, disappointment clear in his voice.

Sigrid gave him a remorseful sigh.

"I really wanted to go, but Da got called into work today and there is no one else to watch Bain and Tilda. I'm sorry you came out all this way," she explained, looking down at her feet in dejection.

It was obvious that the young woman was truly sorry and was honestly looking forward to their date. Fili hated seeing he look so dejected.

"Bring them along," he blurted out. She looked up in surprise.

"What?"

Inwardly he winced. Why did he just invite her two younger siblings to their date? Why didn't he just brush off the inconvenience and reschedule for another time? It was too late for that now though, the offer having been made.

"Yeah," he answered, giving his best honest smile."Bring them along. It's a nice day and I bet they'll enjoy spending it outside."

The smile she gave him wasn't blinding, but it was no less full of joy.

"Alright. Give us five minutes and we'll be ready to go."

With another shy smile at him, she closed the door. Fili couldn't help but chuckle as he heard her muffle shouts for her siblings to get ready as she ran to do the same thing herself.

Exactly four minutes later all four of them were piled in his car and headed to their destination.

"Thank you," she whispered, letting the sounds of the Disney radio channel they were listening to (at little Tilda's insistence). "You didn't have to do this."

Fili glanced at her from the corner of his eye, inwardly pleased at the soft blush dancing across her face. He boldly reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"It was selfish reasons entirely," he teased. "Now I get to spend the day with you."

Her blush increased, but so did her smile. She didn't let go of his hand the entire car ride.

They finally made it to the beach, though Fili inwardly groaned at the sight. It was nearly packed. As far as the eye could see there were blankets and chairs and all manners of people in colorful swim wear. Which meant parking was also a nightmare.

"Maybe there's something over by the shops," Sigrid suggested, pointing to where she meant.

Taking her advice, he started to head there. He drove down the street, and drove, and drove. He drove until the ocean itself was blocked by buildings and all you heard was traffic. At last he found a spot.

"Ready," he asked, eager for the date to begin.

Sigrid nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt and helping Tilda with hers. Fili and Bain unloaded the trunk, the boy offering to carry the blanket and towels while Fili took the umbrella and picnic basket. Together the four took off, ready for a day of sand and sun.

Five minutes in and they hit another problem.

"My feet hurt," Tilda cried, stumbling as she walked.

"We're almost there, Tilda. Just a little while more," Sigrid sighed.

"You said that ten minutes ago," the little girl whined.

Her sister patiently explained to her that it hadn't been that long. That didn't help the little girl's misery in any way.

Fili belatedly realized that he should have dropped the siblings off at the beach with their stuff and found a parking space himself, instead of forcing a little girl to walk the half mile to the beach. He hurried to fix his mistake.

Kneeling down, he gave Tilda an encouraging smile.

"Hop on, Tilda. I'll carry you the rest of the way."

The little girl's face lit up with delight, but Sigrid seemed uncertain.

"Fili, she can walk. You're already carrying a lot."

The man shook his head, giving her a reassuring smile.

"It's fine! She's as light as a feather."

Or so he thought. Tilda pounced on his back and it was like a sack of bricks being thrown at him. What were her bones made of?! Lead?

His face must have given away his discomfort, because Sigrid quickly told her sister to get off.

"No, no," he protested, adjusting his grip on the girl and their things slightly, "It's fine."

With all his strength he got back to his feet, and gave what he hoped was an encouraging look to Sigrid. She remained unconvinced.

"Come on," Bain interrupted, walking again. "We want to do _some_ swimming today!"

Fili and Sigrid followed, thought the latter at a much slower pace than before.

Finally they reached the beach. With a relieved sigh, he let Tilda slip from his back and onto the sand. The little girl squealed in delight and ran ahead. Sigrid stepped up alongside him.

"Do you want me to take the basket and umbrella? Give your arms a break," she asked, a teasing smile on her face. Fili laughed, but brushed her off. Like hell he would let her carry a thing. This was a date and he was a gentleman, thank you very much.

They found a decent spot close to the water and away from the rest of the crowds.

"Let's eat something, first."

The younger kids eagerly nodded, sitting down on the blanket and digging through the basket. Fili only just realized that he had asked Bilbo to make him a picnic for two, not four. Oh boy.

"Aren't you hungry, Fili," Sigrid asked, making herself a small plate. He gave her a strained smile.

"I'm alright," he lied. "I had a large breakfast this morning."

Another lie. He ate nothing that day, saving room so he could have some of Bilbo's excellent cooking. Sigrid frowned at him, grabbing an apple and tossing at him.

"Eat that, at least. Can't have you fainting and drowning when we get in the water."

He laughed shallowly before looking at the apple in his hand. He hated apples, but e was sure his stomach was about to begin eating itself. Reluctantly he took a big bite, breathing through his nose to help mask the flavor.

Tilda and Bain, meanwhile, were happily stuffing their faces with Bilbo's famous BLT subs while Sigrid consumed his potatoe salad. Luck bastards.

  
"Shall we swim," Sigrid asked her siblings when they finished water, though they were already taking off their cover ups and headed to the water.

"Swimming it is," Fili laughed, happily throwing away his half eaten apple and taking off his own shirt.

Sigrid laughed along with him, untying her dress. Fili felt his throat go dry and the sight of her in a swimsuit. It was a modest thing, a one piece with polka dots and a red bow. On her though, it was ravishing. He had to look away to keep him from doing anything embarrassing.

"Let's go," he gruffly said, marching down to the water.

The feeling of the cold water hitting his legs helped clear his thoughts and soon the group was happily splashing about.

Until Fili felt a searing pain wrap around his leg.

"Argh!"

His pained cried startled the siblings as he desperately tried to swim to shore.

"Fili!"

Sigrid's worried cries were temporarily ignored as he crawled onto land, clutching his leg as the agony continued to consume his leg.

Clutching his leg, he was horrified to see a long, angry welts forming on his skin, like string that had wrapped around him.

"That's a jellyfish sting," Tilda exclaimed excitedly as the siblings joined him by his side. She eagerly leaned forward to take a closer look. "There are Portuguese Man of War here, you know!"

"Thank you, Tilda," he hissed through clenched teeth. He had never felt anything so much pain in his life. "How do you stop it stinging?"

"You have to pee on it," she said matter of factly.

Fili found he could suddenly live with the pain.

"No one is peeing on me!"

"Tilda, go to the life guard station and see if they have a first aid kit. Bain, help me get Fili to the blanket," Sigrid intervened.

The little girl seemed disappointed with the decision, but did as she was told. Sigrid and Bain each braced themselves under Fili's arm and helped him hobble back to their spot.

With a grateful sigh he collapsed on his back on the blanket. He felt something cool trickle down his leg, causing him to lift his head and seek out the source.

Sigrid smiled gently at him, pouring fresh water onto his wound. It was a small relief.

He let his head fall back and his eyes close.

This date couldn't be going any worse! He was sure Sigrid was having just as miserable a time as he was. He would be lucky if she ever spoke to him again after this.

Tilda finally returned, a small bottle of apple cider vinegar and a packet of pain pills clutched in her hand. Both were eagerly accepted.

"I think it's best if we call it a day," Sigrid finally announced.

Bain and Tilda let out despairing cries, but she wasn't moved. Fili agreed with her. It was time to go home.

Sigrid offered to get the car and drive home, something they did in silence. When they reached their home, she sent her siblings in ahead of her.

"I'll be there in a moment," she said and shooed them away. Then it was just her and Fili.

She turned to him and gave him a soft smile.

"That was certainly an interesting day," she laughed softly. Fili groaned. Interesting didn't even begin to cover it.

He was sure what was coming next. Some gentle words about how they would be better off as friends and it wasn't meant to be. He had it all planned out, the perfect date that would show Sigrid they were meant to be together. Now it was ruined.

"I would like to do it again."

The words had him looking up in shock and disbelief? Sigrid smiled gently at him.

"Maybe next time we'll leave Tilda and Bain at home."

Fili found himself nodding dumbly, still surprised. She wanted another date with him!

"Call me," she said before leaning over and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Before he could respond, she was climbing out his car with one last smile.

His face split into a massive grin as it all sank in. It was a grin he wore all the way home and even later, when he realized that he had forgotten to put on sunblock and got sun poisoning. It had been the perfect date!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: peeing on a jellyfish sting does nothing to help. It's just gross. Vinegar, especially apple cider vinegar, does help. Growing up in Hawaii I've been stung many times (by man'o'war) and we learned to always have a big jug of vinegar in our car for such things. Be prepared! :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	8. Thorin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin, like a typical Alpha, was letting his emotions take over. Bilbo, like a typical Omega, wasn't having it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Thorin/Bilbo story in the Alpha/Beta/Omega AU. Pretty tame though. Hope you like it!

Thorin didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

Exhaling loudly through his nose, he growled and snapped at anyone who dared interrupt his methodical pacing. He was an Alpha in high aggression and not even his own nephews were safe from his war path.

"We'll leave this to you, Bilbo," Fili winced, tenderly pressing his rapidly blackening eye. Kili was sulking in the corner, a bloody rag held to his nose as he tried to staunch the flow. The two young alphas had made the mistake of trying to soothe their Uncle's rage. Unfortunately for them, they had long since passed the adolescent stage where senior Alphas weren't at all threatened by their presence. Thorin had quickly, and violently, asserted his dominance with his nephews.

Bilbo sighed, reading out to hold Fili's head still so he could examine the damage. Luckily for them, it was minimal. Thorin could have easily killed his nephews in this state, but had obviously some semblance of sense left as he let the boys escape with just a black eye and broken nose.

"I'll handle this," he promised with a soft smile before shooing them into the kitchen. The young men didn't need to be told twice, scurrying off to safety.

Now it was just the ill-tempered Alpha and his very annoyed Omega.

"Thorin, enough," he firmly scolded, planting himself right in the middle of his pacing. The Alpha stopped abruptly, glaring down at his mate. His chest was puffed and he positively reeked of testosterone and aggression hormones. Bilbo wasn't intimidated though.

Planting his feet and placing his fists on his hips, he glared back at his mate.

Thorin had been ornery all week, but like the typical Alpha he was he let it fester and bubble beneath his skin until it affected everyone around him. All of this because their child had gone on his first date today. Omega's were never so pig headed, Bilbo thought sourly.

"This has to stop. Frodo is nearly grown and a smart boy. You will start controlling yourself or so help me, Thorin Oakenshield, you will sleeping in your office, alone, for a month!"

His threat had some effect on the larger man, who relaxed his confrontational posture but was still very much agitated.

"I don't trust that Alpha," he admitted, practically spitting his words like they were a vile poison.

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"I seem to recall you singing high praises about Aragorn not a month ago. Something about Fili and Kili learning a thing or two from him?"

It was true. Aragorn was a good and respectable young Alpha, who understood his responsibilities and bore them with strong shoulders. Bilbo had also been impressed by his maturity, as Alpha's his age were prone to recklessness and wild actions. His nephews by marriage were prime examples of this phenomenon.

So when he approached the two of them, respectfully showing deference to their higher status as a mated pair and elders, to ask them permission to take their young omega son on a date, Bilbo quite happily gave his approval. A swift (and hidden) pinch to Thorin's side had him also agreeing, though it was through clenched teeth.

Thorin ignored his words, still tense. Sensing a need for a different approach, Bilbo let his own instincts take over.

"Thorin," he softly spoke, stepping close to his mate and gently nuzzling his head beneath his chin, subtly pressing the glandes there. He felt the tension begin to seep from his mate. "You know nothing bad will happen. We raised a good boy. Frodo wouldn't date someone who would try to force him into something he wasn't ready for. You know this. If you can't trust Aragorn now, trust our son."

In between his words he peppered Thorin's neck with light kisses and gentle licks. Slowly, but surely, he fully relaxed. His large arms wrapped themselves around his smaller frame, pulling him into a tender hug. Bilbo smiled softly, closing his eyes with a happy sigh as he returned the embrace. Already Thorin's scent was changing, returning to the normal, pleasant scent he enjoyed.

"I don't like him growing up," the Alpha quietly admitted, his words muffled by Bilbo's curls.

Bilbo bit his lip. Thorin wasn't alone in his thoughts. He, too, hated that Frodo was no longer a little boy anymore. That soon he would be leaving for university and to start his own life, have his own family. It was a bittersweet look into the future, one that Bilbo found himself thinking about often these days.

"I know," he replied, burying his head into Thorin's chest. There was nothing more to say really. So they just stood there, taking comfort in each other's presence.

The sound of the front door opening had them reluctantly parting. Just a bit, though. Thorin still had his arm wrapped around Bilbo's shoulder.

"Dad? Papa? I'm home," Frodo called out, appearing around the corner. His face was  
flush with red, but his eyes were bright and his smile wide.

Bilbo smiled at him.

"Did you have a good time," he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Frodo's smile widened, if that was at all possible.

"I did. It was really amazing," he gushed, a gentle laugh spilling from his lips. He brought his hands to his cheeks, as if to hide the blush there. "Aragorn is amazing. I've never felt this way."

The admission made Bilbo's heart simultaneously swell and crack. Like he said, bittersweet.

"I'm glad," was all he replied with.

Frodo shyly smiled.

"He asked me out again this Saturday. Wants to take me bowling. Is that alright, papa?"

The hopeful question was directed at Thorin, who had yet to speak since his son entered the room. Instead he just watched him, icy blue eyes carefully studying his child. Bilbo saw a subtle change overcome him as he found whatever it was he was looking for. He sighed softly and gave Frodo a gentle smile.

"As long as you have your chores and homework done, it's fine by me."

In the years to come, Bilbo would swear that Frodo's smile was so bright then that they ended up with an extra hour of daylight and it did absolute wonders for his garden.

The boy sprang forward, giving both his parents kisses on the cheek and thanking them again and again.

"Go, you're cousins are in the kitchen. They'll want to interrogate you about everything," Bilbo laughed after the ninth kiss. Frodo giggled and hurried off, eager to tell Fili and Kili everything.

He snuck a glance at his mate, who watched their child run off with a melancholic smile. Feeling the need to turn that smile into something else, he gently leaned in, pressing his plump body against Thorin's muscled one.

"You know," he mused, a coyness painting his words. "With Frodo being nearly grown, perhaps we should think of adding another one?"

His words, to his utter delight, had an immediate effect. Thorin's scent rapidly changed to the pleasant, strong smell of everyday life to something hot and thrilling that got his blood pumping.

He put up very little protest when he was quickly shepherded to their bedroom. He much preferred this version of Thorin than angry or sad Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I love writing more risqué stories for this AU (I have a lot on my computer winkwink) I also really like writing family life here. Like the dynamics that would come with being in, essentially, a pack. It's the amateur sociologist in me I guess. :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take request and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	9. Dwalin/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His therapist had suggested the idea to him. Buy a plant whenever he was tempted to fall back into his addiction. What a bunch of hippy nonsense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick and cute Dwalin/Ori story. Enjoy!

It had been his therapist to suggest this form of therapy.

“Any time you feel the slightest urge to fall back onto your bad habits, I want you to go and buy a house plant.”

At first he had scoffed at Dr. Radagast’s words, thinking them ridiculously hippy-ish and of no help at all. However, when the idea of stiff drink became far too tempting than he would like to admit, he found himself driving to the nearest garden store and picking out a tiny little fern. He took it home and placed it on the windowsill of his kitchen. Unfortunately for the plant, he hardly ever used his kitchen, preferring take out to cooking anything on his own. The plant died within a few days. If only his addiction would die so easily.

Unfortunately, alcoholism was a disease that could only be healed with time and effort. Soon enough, the fern was replaced by another plant, and then another, and another.

Soon his whole home was nearly overflowing with greenery of all kinds, some even managing to live past a week. That was, of course, thanks to the advice of the small man who ran the garden store. Ori Reeson.

The unlikely friendship had started when Dwalin had shown up for the third time in a week, wallet ready as he purchased a fern identical to the ones he had killed.

“Are you properly watering it,” the red haired man asked. Dwalin frowned at him, causing the other man to blush and stutter.

“I-it’s just, I noticed y-you bought the s-same type of plant t-three times this week. M-maybe you aren’t watering it properly?”

Dwalin hadn’t been watering it at all. He simply left the plant on his kitchen windowsill, taking the place of it’s dead relative, and in a few days threw it out when it withered and died before buying a new one. He told the man as much.

The gardener seemed shocked and personally offended by his lack of care, hurriedly grabbing his notepad a scribbling a few things down before ripping it out of its binding.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the page at Dwalin. “Follow these instructions to the letter and you’ll be able to use the money saved on different kinds of plants.”

He took it with a grunt that could be translated as thanks, if one was listening very, very carefully, before taking his purchase and leaving.

A week later and his plant was not only still alive, it was thriving. Dwalin would never admit this to another person, but it gave him a small sort of thrill to compare the growth the little plant had gone through in just a week’s time. He was eager to see it grow even bigger.

That was six months ago.

“Good morning, Mister Dwalin. Looking for something new,” Ori asked, smiling shyly at him from where he swept up some spilled soil.

Dwalin nodded, already browsing the plants on display. He had been doing some research and thought something that flowered and smelled nice would be a good addition to his home.

“Do you have any gardenia,” he asked, carefully shifting through the pots.

“I do,” Ori answered, coming to stand by his side. He placed a gentle hand on his arm and gestured with his head that he should follow him.

The smaller man led him further into the store, past the basic greenery and succulent plants, until they were in the back. Dwalin had rarely come back here, though he didn’t know why. Everywhere he looked there were flowering plants of all kinds. Carefully maintained lavender sat next to hibiscus, and roses of every color lined one wall. Ori stopped in front of small table, where three pots rested, each filled with a well grown gardenia plant. One was even in bloom.

“Here they are,” he shyly offered, stepping aside to let Dwalin examine them.

The large, tattooed man did so with a gentle hand. He carefully lifted the leaves, testing the way their color shined in the light. His finger nail lightly scrapped against the stems, testing the suppleness and strength there. The soil was damp and cool, perfect conditions to grow in. And the scent was heavenly.

“I’ll take it,” he decided, grabbing the one that had a single flower bloomed in its leaves.

He turned to hand the pot to Ori, so he might ring up his purchase and be on his way, but saw the man biting his lip and shyly looking at his feet.

“Is something wrong?”

The red head squeaked and shook his head. Dwalin watched as he continued to stare at his feet before finding some courage and straightening his back and looking at him in the eye.

“I would like you to take it. As a gift. From me.”

The words surprised him. Ori had never given him a gift before, unless the advice he freely shared on how to best take care of his plants could be considered that. Dwalin doubted it though. He saw him do it with all his customers. This was something more.

Not quite sure what to say, he just nodded and thanked him.

Ori gave him another shy smile before walking back to the front of the store, Dwalin trailing behind. He escorted him to the front door.

“Flowers have meanings, you know,” he explained, as he opened the door for the larger man to get by. “Gardenia’s especially.”

That was all he said, closing the door in a hurry and scurrying away. It was very odd behavior.

When Dwalin got home, after he found the perfect spot for his new plant, he googled what meaning gardenia’s had. The first thing that popped up was eye opening.

Secret love.

The next day, Dwalin returned to the garden shop and asked if he had any ambrosia. Ori’s smile lit up the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ambrosia: love returned
> 
> Ah! Midterms are this week and I've been studying like crazy. My ASL receptive is tomorrow, and just before this I finished the written portion and the expressive portion. I had to make a short video that described me, like my name, gender, hobbies, etc. I hope I got the grammar right. Once it's over though, I have spring break! Yay!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	10. Thorin/Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin tried to look away, but the view was far too tempting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my! By request, a Fili/Thorin story where Fili is a cocky student and Thorin is the teacher falling in lust. I thought it a good way to kick start my spring break. ;) Enjoy!

The sight was beyond tempting and Thorin couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was in the middle of his afternoon Chemistry Lab, and nothing terribly exciting was happening academic wise. He had passed around a worksheet for his students to complete in pairs, hoping to use the time to catch up on his grading for his other classes. He hadn’t, however, taken into account Fili.

Just the thought of him had him suppressing a shiver of want. It was wrong and immoral, but oh so wonderful of a fantasy. In his defense, there was no rule in the University that a professor and a student couldn’t have a romantic relationship as long as the student was of age. It was, however, very highly frowned upon. Thorin wouldn't lose his job, but he would certainly lose his respect.

The young man in question had arrived late to his class, a cocky swagger in his step and a half-ass excuse about his car breaking down. Thorin knew it was a lie. Fili drove a motorcycle and cared for that thing more than his own mother. He let the lie slide though, like he always did. He tried to not stare as he walked past his desk, his leather pants clinging sinfully to his legs and bottom. He managed, but only just.

Then the blond man was standing and leaning against his table, chatting with his partner. The sight of him bent over as Thorin gripping his pen tightly, his knuckles white with the tension. He watched him shift from one foot to another, the sight mesmerizingly arousing. He felt his pants tighten in response. Thorin desperately glanced at the clock, hoping that it was time to dismissal so he could have a few moments alone to manage his… _thoughts_ , before his next class began. The clock told him he had fifteen minutes before it was time to be let out.

 _Screw it_ , he thought as he called everyone to attention.

“Finish these worksheets over the weekend and submit it online before the start of next class. You’re dismissed.”

Like typical university students, they didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, quickly gathering their books and supplies and rushing out the door. Thorin ignored them in favor of the work he still had on his desk.

“You go on ahead. I need to talk with the professor.”

The familiar young and arrogant voice had him looking up, frowning at the sight of the star of his current fantasies standing in front of his desk. Fili looked at him with an easy smirk, his long hair pulled back in a mess of braids, showing off his clear blue eyes. Thorin wondered if those eyes would brighten with arousal, or darken.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Vilson,” he asked, pushing those thoughts to the far corners of his mind. The image of his tight ass bent over was still very much effecting him. Thinking about what he looked like during the heated passions of sex wouldn’t help him.

The young man gave him an exaggerated grimace, holding up bundle of papers that was covered in red markings. Thorin recognized it as the last exam he had given.

“This grade is killing me, professor. My whole GPA was brought down because of it,” he answered.

“Your grade reflects your effort in this class, Mr. Vilson. You are often late, choose not to do the assigned homework, and heavily relay on your partners for in-class assignments. What I gave you is a fair mark.”

The young man sighed heavily, leaning against his desk and running his fingers through his hair, causing it to fall into his face when he let go. The sight of Fili peeking through his bangs at Thorin has the older man’s breath hitching. Was there nothing this young man could do that aroused him so thoroughly.

“You don’t understand, professor. Your class is the only one I’m failing and my scholarship depends on my GPA. Is there anything I can do to make it up,” he wondered. His tone was innocent, but his posture was far from it. Legs spread out as he practically sprawled out on Thorin’s desk, his eyes slowly dragged from Thorin’s head to his lap and back again, a brow cocked in obvious interest. The older man swallowed heavily. It wasn’t the first time a student had so blatantly propositioned him in order to fix their grade. It was, however, the first time he seriously considered taking them up on the offer.

“It would depend solely on your work ethic,” he gruffly replied. “How hard are you willing to work?”

Fili’s grin turned positively Cheshire, lips pulling back to reveal white teeth, teeth that promised to bite in a way that felt good.

“Oh, professor,” he purred, throwing his legs over the desk so that he was now nearly straddling Thorin’s seat. “I’m all about working _hard_.”

Thorin shouldn’t be doing this. It went against everything he believed it, all his morals and principles. But the sight of those leather encased thighs flexing as they pulled his chair close, and the heat that poured off him was too much to handle. The older man’s hands found themselves caressing his prize, marveling at the strength he felt beneath his palms. Fili was a trim man, but he trim didn’t mean weak. Thorin was sure those thighs could remain wrapped around his waist in a constrictive grip for hours on end. He was desperate to find out it that was true.

Fili leaned forward, lips stopping just before Thorin’s, his hot breath dancing along his face. He shuddered at the feeling, eyes closing briefly as he savored the moment.

“Is that a yes, professor?”

The question was mockingly asked, teasing and so full of arrogance. Thorin suddenly wanted to break his smug attitude, bend him to his own dominate will. Surging forward, he grabbed the younger man by his waist and laid him flat out on his desk. Papers and books went flying, but he didn’t care. His own body draped across the smaller one beneath him, flush together in a way that had him groaning.

“That’s a yes.”

He canceled his classes for the rest of the day.

                                                                                            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you can use your imagination to figure out what happened next. Steamy, steamy, steamy! But oh, so great. ;) I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	11. Nori/Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The phone call came in the middle of the day. Just like that, Nori's world was changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nori and Bofur for you wonderful readers! I hope you enjoy it. :)

The phone call had come in the middle of the work day. Not that Nori worked normal hours, but it still had a jarring effect on his day to day schedule.

A car accident, the calm, faux sympathetic voice on the other line explained to him. Head on collision with a driver who blew a tire. Neither driver survived, only the child in the backseat.

Dori was dead. Ori was in a hospital, alone. Nori had to take care of him. Yet he found himself unable to move, stuck to the kitchen chair he had collapsed in, eyes staring blankly at the wall. That was how Bofur found him, nearly an hour later.

"Everything alright, love," he asked, cheerful voice that didn't suspect a thing.

Nori turned to look at his lover, neck stiff and face blank. Bofur stopped his puttering around the kitchen, now very aware that something wasn't right.

"Dori's dead," he croaked.

Saying the words out loud had a sort of cement like effect to reality, sealing it all into place in his mind.

"Oh god," the red haired man gasped, tipping forward and falling to his knees on the floor, arms wrapping around his head. He struggled to take in enough air, a million thoughts colliding at once in his head.

He heard Bofur drop next to him and felt his arms wrap tightly around his body. Nori clung to them with all his might, desperate for the physical anchor. Without it, he was afraid he would break into a thousand pieces and than Ori would be left all alone.

Ori!

"I have to get him," he gasped, clawing at Bofur's arms so he could stand. Bofur held tight, using his strength to pull them both up.

"He's all alone. We need to go, now," he begged his lover.

The other man nodded. A perk of being together for so long with one person is that you very rarely need the full story to know exactly what was going on. He knew who Nori meant, and was relieved to know that little Ori was alright.

"I'll get my keys and we'll go," he promised, giving the red head a soft kiss on the forehead before hurrying to do what he said.

It didn't take long, but to Nori every second felt like a lifetime wasted.

Soon enough they were in the car and driving off. Nori must have given Bofur the name of the hospital, because the man was taking all the right turns to get there. He couldn't recall doing that though, his mind still a mess of thoughts.

"Breathe, Nori. Slow, deep breaths," Bofur calmly instructed, eyes on the road, but one hand leaving the wheel to grasp Nori's.

He did as he was told, taking a deep, shaky breath in and then letting it out as controlled as possible. Again and again he breathed.

In. Out. In. Out.

Slowly he felt himself calm down, and by the time they reached the hospital his mind was clear enough to function.

Bofur parked and turned off the car. He looked over at Nori, face uncharacteristically somber. His hand was still in Nori's.

"Are you ready?"

The honest answer to that question was no, he was the farthest thing from ready, but that didn't matter now. His comfort and emotional preparedness meant nothing, not when Ori was all alone in a strange place, after suffered such a traumatic incident.

He felt Bofur squeeze his hand, bringing his attention back to him.

"Anything you need, you tell me. If you want me to be with you when you talk with the doctors or if you want me to go and fetch Ori a change of clothes. Tell me what I can do to help you through this and I'll do it."

His words, spoken so calmly and full of surety, were a balm to his yet fully unrealized grief.

"Thank you."

Together the exited the car and entered the hospital.

Nori hated hospitals. He always has. No good memory of his ever came from being in a hospital. As a child, it was where he got stuck with painful needles that saved him from measles, mumps, and chickenpox. As a teenager it was where his mother died, taken too soon by cancer and leaving him and Dori alone to raise their toddler brother. Now it was where he was going to pick up that same brother, now an orphan twice over, and where his eldest brother laid on a steel slab somewhere. He really, truly hated hospitals.

They were directed to the pediatric ward of the hospital, an area painted a bright yellow with flower stickers stuck randomly across the walls. The obnoxiously cheery decor clashed with the drab green of the rest of building and set his teeth on edge more than anything.

"Mr. Reson," a woman in a pant suit approached them, hair in a severe bun and her lips set in a stern, no nonsense manner.

"Yeah, that's me," he answered, voice hoarse. The woman nodded, scribbling something down in the clipboard she held.

"I am the social worker assigned to your case. You are Ori Reson's legal guardian, but given the circumstances of your current situation it was deemed necessary that I be here."

Something in those words had Nori on edge.

"What circumstances," he asked, though in a tone far more challenging. The woman seemed unimpressed, looking down her nose at him.

"Your lack of permanent employment and criminal record are a concern, and there has been some talk at whose... _company_ you keep."

And there it was. They didn't think he should take Ori because he was gay. He would like to see them try to place him in foster care while he was around!

He was ready to yell and rage at this woman, to use this outlet to vent all his emotions, but Bofur quickly intervened.

"With all due respect, miss, I believe this is a matter for another time. Nori and Ori have just lost their brother and need to see each other. I'm sure you understand."

He said all this with a charming smile and some careful maneuvering, until they were behind the closed door to the pediatric wing and there was no chance she could follow them.

Nori still felt his rage boiling beneath his skin. He lost one brother today. He would be damned if he lost another.

"Hey, look at me," Bofur said, gently tipping his chin up so his eyes were set right on his.

"No one is going to take Ori from you. We'll get through this."

Nori suddenly couldn't see how that was possible.

"How," he asked, letting all his uncertainty and fear bleed into his words.

Bofur gave him a gentle kiss before leaning his forehead against his.

"One step at a time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little angsty but I hope it ended on a somewhat positive note. I planned for this to be a oneshot, but now I'm not so sure. Would you guys want a continuation of this? Let me know.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	12. Nori/Bofur pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three months since they lost Dori. Nori was still adjusting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of yesterday's story. Enjoy!

"Do you want chicken nuggets for dinner," Nori asked, digging through his freezer in search of something edible.

"That's fine," a small, timid voice answered.

He looked over his shoulder at Ori, who sat at the kitchen table, idly tracing shapes in the counter top. Nori sighed quietly, pulling out the bag of frozen nuggets. It had been three months since Dori's death, and two and a half since his funeral. Not a lot of time to get over their tragedy, but Nori would have thought they would have moved past this distance.

"How about some peas? Do you like peas?"

The little boy shrugged his shoulders and gave him soft smile.

It had been years since Nori had lived with his brother. He had moved out when he was five, and that was three years ago now. He didn't know how interact with him anymore. Once upon a time he was the brother the boy would come to for fun stories or silly jokes. Now Nori could hardly get two words out of him that weren't 'yes' or 'no'.

He hated it.

He didn't know how Dori did it, balancing between caregiver and brother. Whenever he had been around his older brother had made it look so simple. The disciplinarian and the benevolent caretaker, Dori had managed to make it look so easy. Nori wished he had such skill.

Bofur had it. He was able to deal with Ori with utter ease, chatting and smiling with the boy and managing to coax one at in return. Though it made Nori happy to see his lover taking to his new role with ease, he was adult enough to admit that it came with a tinge of jealously and dejection. He wanted to be like that with Ori, instead of their stilted relationship.

Speak of the devil, the front door opened and Bofur's sunny voice called out in greeting.

"Good evening, my sun and my stars! How are my two favorite lads," he asked, appearing in the kitchen with a bright smile.

Nori saw Ori's face light up at the sight of Bofur, his eyes brightening and a shy, but no less happy smile appearing on his face. The red haired man felt his heart crumble a bit.

"Evening, love," Bofur said, giving him a quick kiss. Nori returned the affection, though it was slightly reluctant. He could tell that Bofur knew he was upset for some reason, but didn't press it. He just reached down and gave his hand a light squeeze.

Dinner was a normal affair. Bofur kept the conversation light and fun, asking Ori about his day and making no comment at Nori's quietness. Only when they put the boy to bed that night and they were in their own room did he address it.

"Is everything alright?"

Nori shrugged. He knew he should talk about it, but honestly didn't want to. Bofur was patient. He sat down beside him on the bed, shoulder to shoulder.

"Was today just a hard day? Did something remind you of Dori? It's okay to grieve, Nori. There is no time limit of mourning."

The other man shook his head.

"It's not that. I miss him, and I know that's okay. But, I feel like like I'm failing Ori. He doesn't interact the same way he does with you. He's comfortable with you, and he laughs and acts like a normal kid. With me it's like he's being extra good because he doesn't know how else to act," he admitted. Saying it out loud made him feel awful and bratty, but it was the truth.

Bofur, the wonderful man that he was, didn't scorn his feelings or make him feel worse. He just wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a half-embrace.

"Ori loves you, Nori. Trust me. But I imagine he's feeling a little confused right now. Losing Dori is still fresh in both of your minds, and he may feel like he's betraying him by accepting you fully as his new guardian. You're doing a great job taking care of him. He just needs some time," he quietly explained, helping put Nori at ease.

It was one of the many reasons he loved the man. He had a way of gently fixing any worries and fears he had with ease, and those he couldn't fix he stuck by his side until they were resolved.

"Thank you," he muttered. Bofur smiled and kissed forehead. Nori closed his eyes at the sensation, letting it soothe him further.

He fell asleep with no more worry in his heart.

Hours later the sound of quiet crying woke him. He looked over where Bofur was sound asleep, snoring and dead to the world. The dark haired man could sleep through a hurricane. With a fond smile at the thought, he got out a bed and made his way to the hall.

The crying was a little louder out here, and hurried to Ori's room where the sound was coming from. Opening the door, he saw his brother curled up beneath his blankets, a trembling little lump in the darkness.

He padded through the room, sitting beside where he was.

"Ori," he softly asked, ignoring the startled little squeak the boy made when he realized he was no longer alone. "What's the matter?"

Two big, wet eyes peeked out from under the blanket. The boy gave a loud sniff before answering.

"I miss Dori."

The quiet, tentative words broke his heart. Ori hardly ever talked about Dori, though Nori knew he was grieving as well.

"I do, too," he admitted in reply, reaching down to card his fingers through his hair. It was something his mother used to do to him, and he knew Dori did it with Ori. He felt the little boy relax under his touch.

They say quietly together, Nori still gently caressing his scalp. After awhile, Ori spoke.

"You won't leave, will you?"

Nori smiled sadly.

"No, Ori. I won't leave. Neither will Bofur."

The little boy gave him a relieved smile.

"Good."

Nori never made it back to his room the night. In the morning, Bofur found the two of them curled together on Ori's small bed. He let them sleep, walking away with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for missing yesterday! I went out with friends and had a little too much to drink. So you guys will get two stories today to make it up.
> 
> Do you have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them


	13. Bilbo/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had started as a conversation to chase the chill of night away. What did they miss most of home? Bilbo didn't expect it to take the turn it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for missing yesterday. Enjoy! :)

"My loves blueberry scones and cream," Bofur shared with his companions around the fire, his eyes dreamy with memories.

The others laughed good naturedly at his love struck face. The miner took it well, laughing along with them when he came out of his thoughts.

"So you don't miss your love, just her baking? For shame," Gloin teased.

"Well that's a given! She's the reason I joined this quest to begin with. I hope to give us a better life when Erebor is ours. With my share of the treasure I plan on buying her a nice home and kitchen so she can open the bakery she's always dreamed of."

A mocking chorus of 'oohs' and 'awws' filled the campfire at Bofur's sentimental statement.

"Lay off! What about you Mister Bilbo? What is it you miss most about home," he asked, diverting attention to the hobbit who had been a silent spectator up until that point.

"Your armchair," Kili teased.

"Your books," Ori wondered.

"Your pantry," Bombur asked wistfully.

Bilbo smiled around his pipe at all the suggestions. Yes, those were comforts he missed but not things he truly longed for. He told them as much.

"Then what, laddie? Perhaps a hobbit lass back home," Balin winked at him with a knowing smile. That certainly had Bilbo laughing.

"No. No love back home waiting for me, lad or lass," he chuckled before leaning back in though. The dwarves waited for him to continue and he didn't disappoint.

"I would say what I miss most is my family. Especially my little nephew," he confided.

"I didn't know you had a nephew," Fili said.

"Uncle Bilbo!"

Kili's exclamation gained a good chuckle from the hobbit in question.

"Yes, I'm an uncle. My brother, Drogo, and his wife, Primula, have a son. Little Frodo Baggins. The tyke will be turning 8 soon," he shared.

"What's he like?"

"A mischief maker, especially with his little cousins, Merry and Pippin. Always running off in search for fairies, climbing trees and swimming in the rivers. That boy is a true Took and Brandybuck wrapped in the polite manners of a Baggins. He's a good boy though. Whip smart and full of heart. If he knew I was going on this adventure, you can be sure he would have tried to tag along."

"Perhaps it was best you left so suddenly then."

"Indeed. I imagine he's organizing search parties with his cousins, scouring all of the Shire and Buckland in the hopes that he'll find me."

Bilbo smiled fondly around his pipe.

"I would do anything for that boy."

The company if dwarves smiled and nodded at his wistful tone. Family was very important to dwarves, and children were especially treasured. The outside world saw them as greedy beings who loves only gems and gold, but it was an unfair view. No one saw how devoted they were to their kin.

"Do you have any other siblings, Mister Bilbo," Bofur asked.

"No. It's just my brother and I. We were quite an unusual family of hobbits, with only two faunts. The average family in the Shire has about seven children. But my parents were older and had a harder time conceiving a third child, but we were quite happy with two."

"By my beard! Seven children is normal? How on earth do you feed them all," Dori wondered in shock, quickly doing the math in his head on how much all those mouths would cost.

"Surely it's not that big of a shock? After all Bombur has twelve children," the hobbit pointed out.

"Aye, but Bombur's always been prone to excess. Most dwarf families have one or two children. Three is seen as a blessing," Bofur explained. Now it was Bilbo's turn to be shocked. Only one or two? How dreadful! Even though he himself had a single sibling, he had hoards of cousins so he and Drogo were never lonely.

He couldn't imagine only having one sibling and less than three cousins. Even worse, no siblings or cousins. How sad.

"Hobbits are very social creatures who share a deep love for all things that grow. That includes families. Why is there so few amongst your kin?"

"Simple. For every three male dwarves, there is only one female dwarrow. Many of them do not wish to marry and have children, preferring to focus all their time on their craft. Even then we are not a particularly fertile bunch," Oin lectured like the healer he was.

Bilbo frowned at that. It was a strange concept to him, a person having no desire to raise children. Even he, a confirmed bachelor, often looked at his nephew and cousins with a sense of parental longing. As for the fertile bit...

"You bachelors should find yourself each a hobbit then, if you desire children. Very few have trouble conceiving and raising children," he grumbled, still trying to understand the facts he had been given.

The dwarves laughed heartily at his suggestion, though few dismissed it entirely.

"You think a hobbit-lass would run away with a dwarf," Kili asked, eyes sparkling with interest.

"If they were a Brandybuck or a Took. Though with the right charm, you may even be able to snag a Cotton. And not just lads"

"How is it done then? Wooing and courting a hobbit," Fili inquired, stroking his mustache in thought.

Bilbo smirked as he saw many of the dwarves lean forward, waiting his answer. He had meant his comment about them marrying a hobbit as a tease, but now that he thought about it it really wasn't that bad of an idea. Ori would be particularly popular amongst the lads and lasses back home, what with his skill with a pair of knitting needles and scholarly, soft spoken ways.

"Well, like I said before, hobbits are simple creatures. Unlike dwarves, we have little desire for gold or jewels or fine weapons. We believe wealth and beauty lies in things that grow. So much so that we have a whole language of flowers."

"Language of flowers? Sounds prissy," Dwalin laughed, though Bilbo realized not unkindly. He understood his amusement. To a tough race of people like dwarves, using flowers to convey messages did seem rather dainty and feminine.

"Hobbits are gentle creatures and we see the worth in other gentle things. To receive flowers from your loves garden, which they nurtured and grew with care, is the most wonderful thing. Often time lovers weave certain flowers together into a crown that they then wear. They convey messages of love and devotion to all those who see."

"So flowers are a common courting gift," Ori confirmed, eagerly writing this information down in his journal.

"Yes. To initiate a courtship between hobbits, one of them gives the other a small bouquet of tulips. If the courtship is accepted, the other will return the gift with a small favor. A handkerchief with their initials embroidered on it or perhaps a ribbon from a lasses hair."

"And what if you cannot give them a bouquet of flowers? How would make your affections known?"

Bilbo started at the deep voice of Thorin. Throughout this conversation he had forgotten about the king's presence, so intent on sharing his culture with the others.

"Umm...w-well I know my cousin Saradoc started his courtship with his now wife by carving her a pretty comb," he offered, unsure of the usually stern dwarfs inquiry.

"And after? Do you hobbits keep giving gifts until you are married?"

"I-it depends. Hobbits love giving gifts, so courtships and even marriages are filled with little tokens of affections between lovers. B-but the specific tradition of courtship is a series of steps."

By now all conversation between the dwarves had stopped, each listening intently to their leaders gruff inquires.

Thorin paid them no mind, but Bilbo was feeling rather hot under his collar at the attention. Before he took it with ease, this being a casual conversation between curious and somewhat silly dwarves. But Thorin was never silly and nothing between them was ever casual.

The great dwarf nodded at him to continue, and despite his nerves he did.

"S-so a-after the courtship is started, umm, hobbits will then prove their affection b-by cooking for each other, having tea with their families, d-dancing with only each other at p-parties, and finally m-marrying. To marry, the hobbit who initiated the courtship must prove he or she is capable of providing a good home for them and their future children. T-they'll often do this by b-building their beloved their own smial or if they already have a smial, plotting a special garden."

"So flowers, practical gifts, food, integrating with their families, and later providing a home for them. That is how hobbits court?"

Bilbo nodded nervously. What was Thorin's interest in all this? Was is purely scholarly or was he quietly judging Bilbo for his people's tender ways? The hobbit imagined a dwarven courtship involved more weapons and gems then a hobbit one and was a great deal more dominate. However that was no reason to judge someone!

"And what of marriage? What is the protocol for that?"

Jumping a bit at the sudden question that startled him from his thoughts, Bilbo took a moment to answer.

"Nothing too difficult. The couple chooses a date, invites those who are dear to them, have the traditional ceremony, and then a great party after."

Thorin nodded before abruptly turning back to the fire, curiosity obviously satisfied. Bilbo felt suddenly cold and confused at the obvious dismissal. Looking back to the others, they made a show of talking amongst themselves as if nothing strange had occurred. But something most definitely did.

Sensing this conversation on hobbit culture was over, he busied himself with smoking the rest of his pipe. And if he kept sneaking speculative glances at their leader, no one mentioned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh! This time change is killing me already. :( I hate Daylight Savings Time.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	14. ThranduilxBard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music is what coaxed him to the surface. The music, and the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first ThranduilxBard story of the month, and be warned, there is no happy ending here. I was feeling dramatic today, and this is what I got. Enjoy!

The sound of music is what drew Thranduil to the shallow waters every evening. The hauntingly pure sound of some instrument he did not know played into the night, enticing him closer and closer. As a Siren, all music called to him and this melody was enchanting.

He rarely ventured so close to the shore line, the risk of a human seeing him too great. Stories of Sirens and Merfolk alike being caught in nets and killed by angry fisherman was enough to keep most from getting too close. He made an exception for this though.

Carefully he swam in the shallows until he was right beneath a great wall that went down to the sand. The human building towered far above him, casting a great shadow on the darkened waters. This was where he hid, in the dark where none could see him. Silently he waited, and soon his patience paid off.

The first notes played softly, tentatively, as if afraid to scare any around. Slowly though, it built with confidence and grace. At last, it flowed smoothly and without any halting. This was when Thranduil lost himself in the music. Tilting his head back with his eyes closed, he felt a small smile grace his face as the music filled him and took him to places not of this world. Without conscious thought, his body began to react to the music. Lazily he swam in the shallows, letting the tune and the waves push and pull him around. After awhile the song hit a lull, and the Siren opened his eyes. From where he was he could now see the human whose music captured his very soul, though it wasn’t the first time he saw him. He saw him many times, in fact. The dark haired man with the solemn, yet serene face. His strong hands cradled a long, dark piece instrument, but it was not held to his mouth. Instead his focus was in the distance, far out to sea. Thranduil imagined he wasn’t really searching for something, rather simply lost in his own thoughts. For some reason, this man gave him the impression of having a lot of burdens resting on his shoulders, burdens that only lightened with music.

Suddenly the man looked down, eyes meeting his in such a way that was no accident. Thranduil froze, unsure what would happen next.

“You hear my play every evening,” the man softly called out, giving him a melancholic smile. “Can I not hear my Siren sing?”

It was a unexpected request, a human asking for a Siren to sing him a song.

“Are you not afraid of death,” he asked in reply, honestly curious on the matter.

The man’s smile turned even sadder, if such a thing were possible.

“I have been dying every day for a long time. Please, sing me a song.”

The words pained Thranduil in a way he never imagined possible. He did not want this human, _his_ human to suffer. So he did as was asked, and he sang.

The magic was instantaneous. He saw the haze come over the man’s face, his sadness melting away into a dazed wonder. Thranduil took no joy in it though. Still he sang.

He gently lured him with his voice, coaxing him to leave the safety of the wall. The man went without hesitance, stepping onto the ledge and pausing just a moment. Thranduil watched him with sad eyes, his last vision of the man alive. Then he asked him to jump.

When the song ended, so did the man’s life. He carefully pulled him to the shore, the thought of his body being left for the fish to consume so horrible he risked being caught. Carefully he laid him out of reach of the tide, hands moving to brush the wet hair out of his face. In death, the man looked so peaceful, a look he had never seen in life. In his hands he still held the strange, delightful instrument. Thranduil took it, wanting some memory of the wonderful music it sang.

He dove back into the water, leaving silence behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those curious, the instrument Bard was playing was an oboe. The song used for inspiration was "Across the Stars", which all the die-hard Star Wars fans will know as the theme music for Anakin and Padme's love story. Super romantic, but also really tragic. :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	15. Sigrid/Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid stuck out like a sore thumb, with her tight pants and red lips. This was Soc territory. The woman she was waiting for, though, was worth the risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a 1950's girl gang story featuring the lovely Sigrid and Tauriel. I hope I did it justice. Enjoy!
> 
> Quick note: In this story, Tauriel and Legolas are siblings, though it's only briefly addressed.

She shouldn’t be here.

That was the only thought running through Sigrid’s head as she leaned against her car outside of Mirkwood High School, smoking a cigarette. This was well outside the boundaries of her gang’s territory, signs for Erebor and Dale not even posted until you hit the highway when leaving this picturesque little town. With her tight pants and red lips she stuck out like a sore thumb from all the others. She could already hear Fili and Kili furious shouting when they found out where she had gone, not that their opinions ever stopped her before. Those two greasers may think they were some hot shit, but Sigrid knew better. She knew their weak spots and their strengths. Sure, they wouldn’t talk to her for a few days when word got out, but would get over it eventually. They were practically family after all.

A bell rang, signaling the end of the school day for the students here. She straightened up, more alert now that people began to pour out of the building. One hand came up to pull out her cigarette, letting the smoke billow from her lips. The other rested in the pocket of her leather jacket, carefully fingering the switchblade there. She had already spotted a few Mirkwood Socs that had given her people some trouble in the past. They spotted her as well, but left her be for now. Good. They weren’t the reason she was here.

“Sigrid,” a cool and well-bred voice called out, pulling her attention.

The sight of the gorgeous red haired woman walking to her in a soft green poodle skirt had Sigrid’s heart pumping in her chest. With a smile, she stubbed out her smoke and walked up to the woman.

“Tauriel,” she replied in greeting. She wanted to reach out a caress her cheek but stopped herself short. There was a time and place for such things, and in the middle of hostile territory was not it. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Tauriel smirked, looking behind her to where Sigrid’s T-Bird was parked halfway on the sidewalk.

“I can see that,” she teased, brushing past her to peer into the car. The bright red car gleamed in the sun, the top rolled back to show off detail inside. That car was Sigrid’s pride and joy, having pinched, saved, and restored for nearly a year before she got it up and running. Seeing Tauriel next to it made her near swell with pride.

The red head gave her a coy smirk.

“Give a girl a ride?”

Sigrid grinned, eager to please. However, before she could give her answer someone interrupted them.

“Tauriel.”

The cold, stern had both girls looking behind them at the blond man walking toward them. Sigrid recognized him at once, her grin falling away to a stoic mask. Legolas, the leader of the Mirkwood Soc’s, walked toward them, a disdainful sneer on his face.

“Get away from there,” he demanded, stepping up close and into Sigrid’s space. The girl didn’t budge, planting her feet and returning the glare. She was lucky, having her father’s height. The boy barely had an inch on her.

“Why should I,” Tauriel replied in turn, glaring at her brother and not moving from her spot.

“You know why. You shouldn’t be hanging around with this… _riff raff_.”

It was hardly the worse thing she had ever been called, but Sigird couldn’t help but stiffen at the insult. Tauriel saw her reaction before she could hide it, quickly stepping up next to her and grabbing her hand. She glared at Legolas.

“Who I choose to spend my time with is none of your concern. This silly turf war is between you and the boys from Erebor. Leave Sigrid out of it,” she defended.

The blond puffed up in anger, the mention of Fili and Kili putting him on edge.

“She is a part of it because she chooses to side with them. I forbid you from going anywhere near her!”

That had Tauriel’s temper snapping.

“Forbid me?! I’m not your slave to order around, Legolas. I am my own person and won’t be controlled by you!”

She moved to pull Sigrid away and to the car, obviously thinking the discussion was over. Legolas wasn’t. He made to grab her and wretch her back to his side, but Sigrid intervened before he had the chance. A quick shove and kick had him sprawled out onto the concrete.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” she hissed, placing herself between the two siblings. In one hand she loosely held her blade, not yet open but ready just in case.

The boy glared at her from where he lay, eyeing her hand wearily. She saw him weighing the risks in his head, whether or not he should push the issue further. He decided it was too much.

“Fine,” he spat, pushing himself off the ground and brushing off the dirt. “Go with her! But know that you won’t be welcome back, Tauriel! Once father hears of this you’ll be lucky to come home just to fetch a change of clothes.”

With that the boy stormed off, leaving the two girls alone. Sigrid waited until he was out of sight before turning to Tauriel. The red head’s face was a mask of stone. To an outsider it would look like she was unaffected by her brother’s words. Sigrid though was no outsider and saw the pain she felt.

“Hey,” she softly called, stepping close and cradling her cheek. Damn whoever saw her. Her girl needed comfort now. “He’s wrong. Your old man does a lot of mean things, but abandoning his kids isn’t one of them. Legolas is just blowing steam because you won’t bend.”

The girl let out a sigh with the slightly tremor. She reached up and held Sigrid’s hand closer to her cheek, taking strength from the touch. For a few moments they just stood there. Finally, when Sigrid was sure Tauriel had composed herself, she spoke.

“Come on. I’ll buy you an ice cream soda and we can sneak into the cinema, catch the latest John Wayne film,” she offered, guiding her to her car. “They say it has a red head with a fiery temper in it. Bet yours beats hers.”

Tauriel laughed softly at her teasing, hopping into the passenger seat.

“That sounds nice.”

Sigrid grinned, settling in behind the wheel. The let the car roar back to life and rested her hand on the back of the seat. Tauriel took the opportunity and snuggled into her. They drove off together, content with just themselves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soc = Social, which is of course a term borrowed from "The Outsiders", one of my favorite books. And can you guess the John Wayne movie they're talking about here? ;)  
> I imagine the roles here aren't what you expect, with Sigrid being the greaser and Tauriel being the soc, but think of their roles in the movies. Tauriel, though a soldier, is still connected to Royalty and is pretty well off. Sigrid's family, however, barely makes ends meet, putting her in the more typical greaser role. Anyway, that's how I saw it. I hope you guys liked it.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	16. Fili/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the day Fili was to be crowned king. It was also the day he would lose the one he truly loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set post-BoFA and starring Fili/Kili, though nothing is outright stated. I'll leave it to your imagination. ;)

“You look great.”

The familiar voice of his brother caught Fili’s attention, breaking him from his pensive mood. The blond dwarf smiled at Kili, who stood in his doorway.

“I feel like I weigh as much as Bombur in all of this ridiculous finery,” he joked, gesturing to his coronation attire. His normal leathers and furs had been replaced with fine velvets and wool, all dyed in the dark blue of his House. Normally Fili wasn’t one for much jewelry, perhaps a ring or two and a few cuffs on his ear. Today though he looked as if he had been dipped in tar and then thrown into the treasury. Every time he breathed he jangled, such was the amount he was wearing. He hated it.

“Nah, you’ve just gotten fat,” Kili replied in jest, though the mirth didn’t quite meet his eyes. Fili didn’t blame him. Today was supposed to be a happy occasion, but it only felt like another bad chapter in a horribly tragic book. This coronation, _his_ coronation should not be happening, not for another hundred years at least. It should be Thorin in his place, grumpy but heroic in the crown of his forefathers. But Thorin was dead, buried in the rock that was once his home. Fili was now left to take the throne, lest it go to their cousin and the line of Durin fully ended.

“I saw her, the darrowdam from the Iron Hills. The Lady Dala,” Kili continued, picking at some imaginary string that hung from his own tunic. Thus they came to the real tragedy of the day. Fili’s impending marriage.

He didn’t mind taking the crown so early, though he wished with all his heart that his Uncle was still alive and well. He didn’t mind having to lead a kingdom in need of rebuilding and just a trip away from ruin once more. However, the thought of being forced into a marriage with someone he did not love was stomach turning. He knew it was the same for his brother.

“What does she look like?”

He needed to know, though it hurt to ask his brother of all people. Kili deserved so much better.

The younger prince shrugged, eyes now focused on his boots.

“Pretty enough. Hair like honey and braided with only the finest gems. Her beard falls to her belly in soft waves, and she is stout and strong in frame. A fine bride for any dwarf.”

It was a reluctantly given answer, but an honest one. Fili half-hoped that he would lie to spare his feelings. Not Kili though. He would never do such a thing to him.

“I hate her already,” he replied, not nearly as honest as his brother. He didn’t truly hate this dwarrowdam, not really. He hated the situation he was forced into with her. Not free to marry the one he loved, all for the greater good.

His words seemed to give some cheer to Kili though, who smiled weakly.

“It’s almost time. I was sent to fetch you.”

He looked at his brother, who now finally looked him in the eye. This was the last time they had together, just the two of them as they were meant to be. In a few shorts minutes he would appear before the kingdom and would be crowned king. Shortly after he would be bound to the Lady Dala of the Iron Hills, his new queen. And Kili…Kili would fade into the shadows, the second born prince to the throne of Durin. No more, no less. In his heart Fili knew that wasn’t where he belonged. He should be by his side, ruling with him until the end of their days. It wasn’t to be though.

“Go,” he said, turning away. “I will be down shortly.”

He felt Kili hesitate behind him, as if wanting to say more. He didn’t though. It wasn’t fair to either of them to put off the inevitable with their childish fantasies. Fili heard the door open and then shut behind him, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

For the first time in his life Fili wished he was never born to be king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little angsty Fili/Kili for you all. I always mean to write something happy for these two, but 9 times of of 10 I end up with something like this. I guess I like to see the Durin Brothers suffer a bit.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	17. Kili/Thranduil Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili hated Mirkwood, with the dark trees and constant stench of rot. However, the omega was soon to find out that while the woods were bad, the Woodland Realm was worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a Kili/Thranduil story set in the Alpha/Beta/Omega AU. Enjoy!

Kili hated Mirkwood. The dark trees and constant smell of rot had him walking closer to Fili as they tripped and fell along the path, trying to find an exit from the darkness. The spiders were just the topping on a horrid cake and it was best not to linger on them. However, as he was pushed and manhandled through the Halls of Thranduil, he couldn’t help but wish he was back in the forest.

“Stay close,” Fili had managed to whisper into his ear, somehow keeping himself in-between Kili and their elven captors. The omega appreciated the gesture, the familiarity of his brother’s alpha scent calming his frazzled nerves. It would have been better if Thorin was also beside him as well, sandwiching him between the two alpha’s in his life. Unfortunately, he was being pushed ahead of their group, their leader even in captivity.

After many twists and turns they finally stopped. From his place in the center of the group, Kili could just make out an elaborate throne, a powerful figure sprawled across. A cautious sniff of the air confirmed his suspicions. This was Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm and Alpha of the Mirkwood Elves.

“Thorin Oakenshield. Long has it been since your presence has been in this realm,” the elf slowly spoke, his words polite but with an underlying tone of mockery. Kili watched his uncle stiffen at the subtle insult. He slowly stepped closer to Fili. His brother subtly made room for him at his side, arm stretching back just a bit so he could press against his side.

“Too soon, for my taste,” Thorin replied, words cold like stone in the winter. The air was suddenly thick with tension, the overwhelming scent of two Alpha primes facing off causing Kili’s head to go fuzzy. An involuntary whimper left him lips.

Thranduil’s eyes snapped away from the glaring match that he had been having with Thorin and to the center of the group. They passed over each dwarf without car, but stopped at once when they found Kili. The dwarf tried to hide himself further into his brother’s person, Fili quickly understanding his discomfort and instinctively stepping in front of him, shielding him from his view. Dwalin and Bofur, both betas, followed his lead, forming a protective wall between Kili and the elvish king. Thranduil watched him for a few moments longer, face unreadable and eyes blank.

“Take them away,” he finally said at last, waving a dismissive hand. Kili was grateful for the order, wanting to put as much distance between him and the elf as possible. As he left he felt the king’s cold gaze following him.

They had each been given their own cell. Kili’s was on the end, though right next of Fili’s. Thorin was taken somewhere else, far from them. For hours they sat there, quietly planning a possible escape, ignored by the elves left on guard. It must have been near dawn of the new day when one arrived before his cell, unlocking it and gesturing for Kili to leave.

“The king wishes to speak with you,” the guard explained sternly. Kili pressed further into the cell. He wanted nothing to do with the elf king, the very mention of him putting his teeth on edge. The guard had little patience for his caution though, instead reaching in and grabbing him by the arm.

“Let me go,” he shouted, twisting and turning with all his might. The elf held firm though, ignoring his shouts.

“Kili!”

Kili looked back at his brother, who watched him from his cell, face equal parts anger and fear. The blond dwarf was pressed as far as he could against his cell way, arm reaching out in the hopes of grabbing his brother. Kili reached back, but the was too far away. The guard pulled him along and out of sight.

He was brought back to the throne room, though it was far emptier than when he had first arrived. The only one present was Thranduil, who was still on his throne.

“You may go,” he dismissed the guard. The elf bowed and left without a word, leaving Kili alone with his captor.

Kili tried to gather his courage, reminding himself that he was a Son of Durin and should not cower before an elf. However, the scent of pure alpha had his omega instincts overpowering his reason. It was so strong, stronger than even Thorin when in the heat of battle, and had him wanting to submit at once.

Thranduil seemed to sense his internal struggle judging by the slow smirk on his face. He watched him from his throne.

“I didn’t think dwarves allowed their omega’s to leave the safety of their settlements. Much less one of Royal line,” he purred, the only accurate way Kili could think of describing his voice. So low and smooth it had him shuddering.

“My place is with my uncle and brother,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. The elf seemed to sense his effort, his smirk deepening ever so slightly.

“You would think they would want to protect you from the cruelty of the world. It’s a dangerous place for an unmated omega.”

Kili didn’t need to wonder how the elf knew he was unmated. Surely an alpha like himself could see past the ointments and potions Oin gave him to mask his status. The elf stood from his throne, stalking down the steps until he was towering over Kili. The dwarf stood his ground, though all he wanted to do was fall to his knees.

“I wonder what they would think if they knew I had you here, alone.”

The words held the tiniest threat, one Kili didn’t ignore. For a moment he felt true terror. Taking an omega without their consent was a crime that was universally reviled by all free people. However, it wasn’t unheard of for an arrogant alpha to do just that. Thranduil wasn’t one of these, though, right? A king was to be held to a higher standard. That was what Thorin had always taught them at least.

“Angry, but nothing beyond that. Nothing would happen, after all. You wouldn’t dare,” he replied, taking a great risk. He straightened his back and held tight to his courage. Now was not the time to cower, however much his instincts begged him too. The sight of an omega holding his ground against an alpha seemed to amuse the elf, who took a step back.

“You’re right,” he conceded with a nod of his head. “I am many things, but an Orc is not one of them. I will not touch you without your permission.”

Kili let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief flooding through him.

“However,” Thranduil continued, watching him with the same smirk he had since the beginning of this meeting. “You soon may find yourself giving me just that. After all, your kin are held captive in my halls and you might just hold the only key to their freedom.”

The words hung heavily in the air, like a thousand thunderclouds in a summer evening. The meaning was very clear. Kili could accept this advance from the alpha, accepting him as only an omega could. In exchange, his friends would be free. It wasn’t a choice he could make lightly.

“I will give you time to think on this,” Thranduil offered, before snapping his fingers. A guard appeared out of nowhere and stood behind Kili. The elf king was now perched back on his throne, staring down at Kili with an air of utter amusement.

“Take all the time you need. I am very patient. I can wait.”

With that he waved him away, and the guard took him back to the cell.

When he returned all the Company began speaking and shouting at once, each desperate to know what had happened. Kili didn’t quite have the heart answer them though, not wanting to burden them with the knowledge he held.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he? Tell me that at least,” Fili begged.

“No, he didn’t hurt me,” Kili answered honestly. Thranduil hated laid a single hand on him, though Kili wished he had beat him. It might have made this easier. “He just spoke to me.”

“About what though?”

He ignored his brother’s question, curling up on his small cell cot. Soon enough the rest of the Company quieted down, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He had no idea how he would make the decision needed of him. He didn’t want to do what Thranduil wanted, binding himself to him, but he may not have a choice. They needed to reach the Mountain before Durin’s Day and were wasting time rotting in these cells.

The Valar seemed to have smiled on him, though.

The very next morning Bilbo found them, appearing out of thin air and with a plan of escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this one and couldn't just keep it to one part. Tomorrow will be a continuation of this story so stay tuned. :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	18. Kili/Thranduil Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was all wrong. Kili couldn't let what was happening continue. His only hope was the alpha who had only recently been his captor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of yesterday's request story. Warning: mature themes ahead. Nothing explicit, but it doesn't take too much of an imagination to get what's happening. Enjoy!

This was all wrong. None of this should be happening. These were the two thoughts that chased each other through Kili’s head as he watched his beloved uncle fall further into madness, the gold luring him down like a siren’s song. Not even Bilbo, the feisty little omega that had stolen Thorin’s alpha heart, could break through to him. And with the armies of elves and men at their doorstep and the approaching orc army time was running out. Something had to be done.

He snuck out that evening, climbing down the battlement wall, teeth gritting against the lingering pain in his leg. With determination he made it to the ruins of Dale and the encampments of the men and elves. He sought out the nearest soldiers, a pair of elves in fine armor, and demanded to be taken to their king.

Thranduil’s tent was as lavish as his kingdom. The fabric a rich yellow that looked soft to the touch but sturdy enough to ward off the evening chill. His throne, though not nearly as elaborate as his one back in the Woodland Realm, was no less elaborate. Kili took a moment to marvel at the craftsmanship, sure it was a solid piece of wood painstakingly whittled down to its final form, before focusing on the king who sat in it. The elf alpha looked, and smelled, just as Kili remembered him. It had been nearly a month since his time in Mirkwood, but that was nearly not enough time to forget the elven king. A century wouldn’t be enough time.

“Little omega,” Thranduil purred, cradling a glass of wine one hand. “How I have longed to see you again.”

Kili felt his stomach flutter at the words and swallowed down his nerves. The air was thick with the stench of alpha, a musky, hazy smell that had his head swimming if he inhaled too deeply. He made sure he didn’t.

“I have come here, King Thranduil, to give you the answer to the question you asked me not too long ago,” he explained, words steady and strong, a feat by itself. Thranduil raised an interested eyebrow, silently encouraging him to continue. Kili did.

“However, before I give it to you I have terms that must be met. Refusal of any of them will have me leaving this tent at once and thus having your answer.”

His little speech seemed to amuse the elf, who leaned back in his throne and brought his wine to his lips.

“Continue,” he said before taking a sip, eyes watching him over the brim of his goblet.

“You will stand your armies down from the Mountain and convince Bard to do the same. You will ally yourself with the dwarves to fight the oncoming threat of Azog’s army. When the battle is done, you will return back to your home and seek no more gold from Erebor. I will gift some of my treasure, 1/14th of a share, to the men of Dale but you will get nothing. You will leave Thorin to rule in peace as is his right.”

They were hefty demands, and if he were being completely honest, Kili doubted Thranduil would accept them. However, he had to try. For his kith and kin, he had to.

The alpha set his glass down and let hands steeple before him, eyes never wavering from Kili’s face. To be on the end of the stare of an alpha, an alpha _prime_ , was disquieting. All his instincts screamed at him to avert his eyes, to submit before this power, but the young dwarf ignored them. Instead he met his gaze with a calmness and confidence he didn’t quite feel. Hopefully it didn’t show on his face.

“Those terms leave me at a disadvantage,” Thranduil spoke, voice low and controlled. “If I accept, what do I get in return?”

Kili steadied himself. The moment he answered him, his fate would be sealed. He reminded himself what was at stake and took the plunge.

“Me.”

The effect was instantaneous. He saw Thranduil’s cold eyes spark with wild interest and his hormones spike at the answer, filling the tent even further with his scent. It was all too much and Kili finally let his gaze drop to the floor.

“If you accept my terms you will have me, an unmated omega, to do with what you will.”

He heard a rustle of fabric and suddenly Thranduil was standing before him, so close they were nearly touching.

“Without reservations or struggle? You would bind yourself to me, for the rest of your mortal days?”

Kili swallowed, daring to look up. Thranduil gazed down at him, his stoic mask finally broken to show the eagerness and desire he truly felt. Kili felt a small thrill at the sight.

“If my terms are met, yes,” he answered, a tad breathlessly. He was sure his own scent was just as intoxicating to the elf as his was to him. His heart was racing in his chest, pounding solidly against his rib cage.

Thranduil bent down, nearly in half from their height difference. His lips hovered just above Kili’s, eyes darting to his mouth before focusing on his eyes. The omega felt pinned by his heated gaze, but really had no desire to leave.

“I accept,” Thranduil whispered heatedly, before closing the distance between them. He dove at once for Kili’s neck, sealing his mouth in a searing kiss to junction there. Kili let out a startled gasp, keening at the sensation.

He had heard stories of markings, how it was the first step to bond mates to each other. As an adolescent dwarf he had giggled with his brother and friends at the thought of this happening to them, each picturing their true love in their mind. It would seem Kili’s would have to remain just that, a thought from childhood.

Thranduil’s kiss evolved into a bite, his teeth sinking down into his skin and applying wonderful pressure to the gland there. Kili felt himself going limp at the sensation, hands weakly trying to grab hold of the elf’s robes to keep him from falling to the ground. Sensing the young dwarf’s struggle, Thranduil quickly wrapped his arms around his smaller body, showing considerable strength as he held him close. For awhile they just stood there, Kili keening softly as Thranduil continued to thoroughly mark his neck and stake his claim. Slowly the sensation became bearable and Kili regained some use of his body. His mind told him that this process was a two-person dance, that he had a part of play as well. He chose not to think about it, letting his instincts take over.

His arms held tightly to the elf’s shoulders while his legs wound themselves around his waist. Thranduil’s grip lowered from his back to his hips, holding him in place as he stood back to his full height. He let go of his neck slowly, laving gentle licks and kisses to the bruise he left behind. Kili dragged his fingers through his hair, forcing his gaze back to his eyes.

“Take me,” he breathlessly demanded, nose brushing sensually against the other man’s cheek. “Claim me as yours.”

The words had Thranduil growling, having lost all semblance of control in the alpha rut he was falling into. He walked them further into his tent, to where a luxurious pile of furs had been laid out.

As the night continued and Kili lost himself in the sensations and emotions, a single thought filtered through his head before disappearing with Thranduil’s next kiss.

His family was safe now. Thanks to Kili they would be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Is it hot in here or is it just me? I'll be honest, I had to rewrite this a few times because it was getting a little to x-rated for this story series. Not that I would be against writing some more adult stories, but just not here. Maybe next year. ;)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	19. OrixThorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin appreciated the fine arts. Especially the work done by the elusive Reson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A platonic story to help after that last, steamy one. ;) So here is some OrixThorin. Not quite what I had in mind, but I'm proud of it nonetheless.

It wouldn’t be the first thing you guessed about Thorin when meeting him, that he was a lover of the fine arts. However, after awhile of knowing the man you would find that it did make sense. Despite his hulking size, covered in runic tattoos and various piercings, he had a quiet soul. Raised in an upper-class family, he had been given a top level education. With that came an appreciation of the work of geniuses before his time and later one, those of his generation. His current obsession was a young artist that only was identified in his works as Reson. He rarely was in the public eye, preferring to conduct interviews over the phone or via email, so not much was known about him. What was known though was highly applauded, his art especially. In a world obsessed with modern art that consisted of one or two primary colors and geometric shapes, few painted with the skill of the old masters anymore. Reson was one of them. Famous for his portraits of the common man, his canvas was filled with such realistic depiction of the human condition that it had Thorin thinking of it for hours after an exhibit. The emotion and depth portrayed was captured something artists everywhere dreamed of but rarely obtained. His use of color and brush stroke was nothing short of pure talent, some comparing it to Van Gogh’s work quite favorably, and many critics hailed him as a prodigy well ahead of his peers. Thorin found himself agreeing. He himself owned an original Reson, a piece entitled _The Burglar_. It was an interesting piece, showing a cubby man with golden curls and a wicked smirk smoking a pipe on a bench in his garden. Though the meaning of the name behind the piece eluded him, it was one of Thorin’s most treasured possessions. It hung proudly above his fireplace so that anyone who entered his home would see it at once.

“You know he has an exhibit here this month. They’ve even confirmed that Reson will be there himself, ready to take questions and conduct some of his first in-person interviews,” Dis had told him one evening. Thorin immediately got online to purchase a ticket, not caring that he would have to miss a day of work to make it. He was sure it would be worth it.

The day arrived and he, along with two hundred lucky people, entered the exhibit. Every wall was covered with some of Reson’s most famous works. _The Elven King_ , _Dragon Slayer, Lady of Light_ , they were all there. Strangers immortalized forever by the skilled hand of the great artist himself and put on display for the world to admire. There were even some new pieces that had never been seen. One in particular, _Return of the King_ , had caught his attention. A young, yet worn man stared at him from the canvas, eyes and face proud yet humble. Dark hair fell to his shoulders and he had a confident bearing. He was set against a simple dark blue background, as if Reson didn’t want anything to distract from the subject himself. There was a little button alongside the painting with a tiny speaker. Throin pressed it and listened to the short bio about the piece.

 _Aragorn Kingson was an officer with Her Majesty’s Armed Forces. A veteran he has served in multiple combat situations, including the coup d’etat lead by Sauron Augenrote, where he played a pivotal role in bringing piece. He is now with the peace corps, hoping to bring stability to the countries he once fought in. The artist wished to depict his noble demeanor and show that one could fight for the greater good and still bring about peace_.

The voice fell silent and Thorin found himself examining the painting in greater detail.

“Do you like it,” a soft voice asked him, startling him slightly. He turned to see a small red haired man standing beside him, a cane in one hand and dark glasses on his face. It was obvious that this man was blind, which confused Thorin. What purpose did a blind man have in an art gallery?

Not wanting to be rude, he answered his question.

“Very much so. I think it is Reson’s best yet, though I have yet to see the rest of the exhibit.”

The man hummed, a vague smile coming on his face.

“What do you like most about it?

Thorin wasn’t sure exactly why he was talking to this man, but continued nonetheless.

“The fact that he is able to easily portray a person’s innate personality is astounding. It’s obvious his subject here is a man of not only honor, but compassion as well. Such a combination is so rarely seen these days and Reson paints it as something to strive for.”

The man was silent for a moment, digesting his words. He then smiled softly at Thorin.

“I like you,” he stated, quite bluntly. He fished into his pocket and handed him a card. “When you are free, please give me a call. I would like to see you again.”

With that he walked off, cane tapping along the floor as he made his way further into the exhibit. It was a strange encounter.

Out of curiosity he looked down at the card in his hand. It was a simple, off white with dark red lettering. On the front it had a single statement.

 **You are my next muse**.

It didn’t make much sense, so he flipped it over to see what was written on the back. He found his heart skip a beat at what he read and then quicken to a greater speed. There was a phone number printed on the back, and right beneath that a name and title.

**Ori Reson, blind artist.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by the real life blind artist, John Bramblitt from Texas. Click the link to see a short YouTube video about him.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWmalXfWNLc
> 
> Any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	20. Fili/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori lived in a bad neighborhood, no denying that. However, he needed to get groceries to feed his brothers and would have to brave the streets to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting on my computer since month 1, but I could never finish it to a way I liked. Finally, I got this. Enjoy!

He didn't want to go out on such a night but the cupboards were bare and none of his brothers had eaten a decent meal all week. His paycheck, meager as it was, would be enough to buy a decent amount of groceries and give the three of them at least two days of full bellies.

So with his warmest and most durable knits wrapped around his body, he walked out of their small apartment and double checked the locks before stepping out into the cold rain.

It was long past sundown and near total darkness. The storm blocked out the moon and what lampposts that were on the streets flickered or were out completely. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be. But they needed to eat and he could get them food, legally. So he walked on.

Head down, he avoided all eye contact with anyone else fool enough to be out that night. Drug dealers, prostitutes, muggers, and gang bangers would be the only ones around. Some he knew wouldn’t give him trouble, like Cinnamon who worked the corner between his apartment building and the rec center. Others, like Azog, wouldn’t think twice of putting a knife in-between his ribs if given the chance. He was someone to avoid at all costs.

Thankfully it seemed that most everyone remained indoors and he arrived at the grocery store unmolested.

The florescent sign broke through the haze of rain, the red glow beckoning him into the warmth. He gladly followed.

His trip was quick, grabbing items that he knew they could stretch out while also managing to give them decent portions. He politely loaded his purchases on the conveyor belt, ignoring the feeling he got when the cashier suspiciously examined his money before reluctantly accepting it. And with a quiet ‘thank you’ he headed back out into the rain.

Only to discover, to his dismay, that it was raining even harder. He gave himself a moment of pity before heading out. No sense in putting off the inevitable, and he would rather get a cold than stay out even later. Just like before he kept his head down and focused on moving quickly. The con of this was that he missed some obvious signs of danger that could have been avoided if he just picked up his eyes. Like Azog, taking up the sidewalk with his massive girth and looking for a fight. By the time Ori noticed him it was too late because he had already run into him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” he muttered, stumbling back. He looked up with an apologetic smile, only to feel the blood drain from his face as he saw who it was he bumped. The gangster didn’t look happy in the least, scarred face twisted in a fierce scowl.

“What do you think you’re doing,” he growled, taking a menacing step forward. Ori stumbled back, trying not to slip on the slick pavement.

“A-Azog. I-I am s-so, so sorry. P-please, I didn’t mean to bump you. I was just trying to get h-home and the r-rain…” he trailed off from his rambling. It wouldn’t save him the hurt that was sure to come. He recognized that violent gleam in the other man’s eyes. It was the gleam he got when he was on a power high and was looking to relieve some stress. It never went well for the person on the receiving end of such a look. This time it was Ori.

Biting his lip, he tried to stop his whimper as he kept stepping back. He futility brought his groceries in front of him as a sort of shield, not that Wonder Bread and broccoli would so much against Azog’s rage.

“Haven’t seen you around in awhile, Ori,” Azog sneered, still advancing with every step back that Ori took. “Your brother, on the other hand, I’ve seen a lot. Nori caused me a bit of trouble just the other day but scampered before I could pay him back.”

Ori stumbled as his foot twisted off the curb and he landed in a puddle in the street. Azog stood above him, a cruel, victorious smirk on his face.

“I guess you’ll just have to take his place.”

The gangster reached into the waistband of his jeans, ready to pull a knife or a gun on Ori. The younger man could do nothing but shut his eyes and wait for the inevitable.

It never came though.

Instead it was another man. A police officer.

“What’s going on here,” he demanded, stepping out of his police cruiser as he approached Azog and Ori.

Azog quickly dropped his hand and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

“Nothing, officer. Just helping my friend here. Clumsy guy went and fell in the street,” he lied, badly at that. The police officer obviously didn’t believe him, but having seen nothing that would suggest foul intention he had no choice but to accept the lie.

“Get inside,” he gruffly ordered. “Being out in a night like this will make people think you’re up to no good.”

Azog sneered, giving a mocking bow of his head.

“Of course, officer. Goodnight Ori. Tell you’re brothers I’ll be in touch soon.”

With that the man stalked off, returning to his apartment building and leaving Ori behind with the policeman. The red haired man wasn’t sure it was the better option.

“Here, let me help you,” the man offered him a hand. Ori reluctantly took it, though quickly let go when he was back on his feet. He was just as wary of the police as he was of gangsters. In this neighborhood they were more often than not one and the same. People with power who looked to abuse it.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, ever polite, before stooping low to try and salvage his food. The vegetables were a little bruised, but were still edible. The cereal box was falling apart, but the plastic bag inside was intact. The Wonder Bread was beyond saving. It was a shame. Ori was looking forward to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Can I ask you what you’re doing out tonight?”

The policeman’s question had his heckles rising. He knew he was doing nothing illegal, but couldn’t help the defensive reaction. He had been targeted by police before and they had a way of twisting his words into a pseudo-confession for some imagined crime. Not tonight though. He had too much tonight.

“Getting groceries. What is that a crime,” he snapped, temper frayed and desperate to get home. The police, and his uniform said his name was Durin, raised his hands in a placating manner.

“Easy now. No, getting groceries isn’t a crime. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. This is a dangerous neighborhood to be walking during the day, even worse at night.”

Ori felt himself deflating ever so slightly.

“Well, I live here. So I’m well aware of the danger,” he mumbled, holding his bag close to his chest.

If Durin was surprised by his admission, he didn’t show it. Instead he offered him his hand.

“It’s nice to officially meet someone who lives here. I’m Officer Fili Durin and I’ve been assigned to this precinct.”

Ori looked askance at the hand offered to him, before hesitantly shaking it.

“Ori.”

He wasn’t giving this man his full name. That would be a very, _very_ bad idea.

The police man gave him a cheery smile, as if they weren’t currently standing in a very cold downpour of rain.

“Well, Ori. It’s absolutely miserable out here. Is your home far? I can give you a ride back. The car has heat.”

It was a surprising offer, and a tempting one as well. Still he hesitated.

“I was always taught never to get into a car with a stranger,” he replied. Officer Fili laughed, as if his words were a coy joke.

“But I’m a police officer! You can trust me.”

Ori gave him a dead stare.

“No. I can’t,” was his blunt reply. That stopped the other man’s cheeriness. He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I guess you can’t. I heard about the corruption here, though I didn’t want to believe it at first. I’m sorry my fellow officer’s in blue have failed you so much.”

This man was full of surprises it seemed. He honestly seemed remorseful about what past officers of the law had done in the past. He gave him a sad half smile.

“I do hope to change that though.”

Ori nodded, unsure of what else to do.

The rain was starting to lighten, but he was now thoroughly soaked through and starting to feel the chill.

“I have to go.”

Fili hesitated, looking for Ori, to his cruiser, to the empty street ahead of them. He looked back at the red haired man.

“I get that you don’t want to ride with me, but at least let me drive ahead of you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

It was a decent enough compromise, one Ori found himself agreeing to. He never had a police escort before. It was honestly a little thrilling and made him feel important.

They arrived at his building soon enough, the crumbling structure a haven from the cold. Fili rolled down his window and gave him a smile.

“Home sweet home,” he said, leaving out slightly to get a better look. Ori gave him a shy smile.

“Home, at the very least,” he replied. Fili laughed in response. Ori found that he liked his laugh, though he didn’t know why.

“Get some sleep, Ori. I’ll make sure you’re safe tonight. And tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.”

For some reason, Ori believed him.

“Goodnight, Officer.”

Fili smiled and tipped his hat at him.

“Goodnight, Ori. I hope to see you again.”

Ori nodded. He would like that as well.

He then went inside and put away his groceries. He was even able to save a few pieces of bread. Tomorrow he would have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Idly he wondered if Officer Fili like peanut butter and jelly. Next time he would ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Personally, the idea of Fili in uniform is a very attractive one. Yummy!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	21. Bilbo/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wanted to know what Dwalin thought of the afterlife. Dwalin didn't have much a preference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin/Bilbo and some philisophical questions. Where do we go when we die? Hmm... Enjoy!

Bilbo sighed, nuzzling his cheek into the warm and naked chest of his lover. One hand came up to idly stroke through the chest hair there. From the soft moan that reverberated through his ear Bilbo was sure Dwalin appreciated his petting.

He lifted his head, only to rest his chin where his ear had been. This new position gave him the perfect vantage point to study his lover. Dwalin's eyes were closed, though Bilbo knew he wasn't asleep. He knew for a fact that the tattooed man couldn't sleep on his back, preferring to spoon him from the side or lay on his stomach, covering Bilbo with his great girth. He was just resting now.

"Dwalin," he asked softly, a curious question on his mind.

"Mm," the man answered lazily, his eyes still shut. He had one arm loosely wrapped around Bilbo's back, holding him to his front.

"What do you think happens when you die?"

Dwalin huffed a small laugh.

"What sort of post-sex question is that," he asked, a fond smile forming in his face. Bilbo huffed, nails lightly scratching his chest in retaliation.

"Just answer the question."

The larger man opened one eye, smile widening at the sight of Bilbo's determined look. He knew there would be no avoiding this question, not that he saw the need to. He just thought it was strange timing.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought of it," he answered, eye slipping back shut.

Bilbo huffed again, obviously not pleased by his answer. He wiggled out of Dwalin's grip and threw his leg over him to straddle him. Dwalin opened his eyes at the new weight, not at all displeased by the change of position. He quite liked it when Bilbo was on top.

"Aren't you curious? Most people have thought about the afterlife at some point in their life!"

The large man sighed, hands coming up to rest of his small lover's ample hips.

"Have you thought about it?"

Bilbo nodded.

"Tell me then," he encouraged.

Bilbo obliged him.

"My mother used to say that when you die you return to Eden, you know the garden from the Bible. It's a place where it is always summer time, with no sickness or hurt and an abundance of food that you can share with all your family and friends."

The curly haired man got a far off look in his eyes, consumed by the thought of their perfect place. He came back to the present with a soft smile.

"That's were we go when we die," he said with such surety that Dwalin couldn't doubt him. Suddenly he remembered something of his own and shared it with Bilbo.

"My grandfather used to tell us stories about the Halls of our Father. He said that if you live a good, honorable life here, when you die you will be allowed to enter a great feasting hall. All of your ancestors will be there, ready to welcome you, and you will spend the rest of eternity feasting and drinking with those you love."

Bilbo smiled at the description.

"Leave it to your family to believe the afterlife has beer on tap."

Dwalin chuckled, not bothering to deny it.

"So is that what you believe? You will go to the Halls of your Father?"

Dwalin shrugged.

"I honestly don't care where I end up when I die. As long as your there with me, I'll be happy."

Bilbo smiled gently at that, leaning down so he was draped down his front. He gave him a soft, loving kiss, which Dwalin happily returned. When he parted he laid his head against his chest once more.

"Maybe we can take turns in each other's afterlife. Half of it in my garden, half of it at your banquet."

Dwalin thought that sounded nice, though he made no verbal reply. He didn't need to. Bilbo knew what he was thinking. So he simply wrapped his arms around the other man and held him close. The two fell asleep in each other's arms and dreamed of their eternal life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I think it would be cool if we can be reincarnated, but into different worlds. Like imagine getting to chose to be live life as a hobbit in Tolkien's world or as a Jedi? Anyway, that's just me. :)
> 
> Have any ideas on future stories, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	22. Sigrid/Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The responsibilities of being Crown Prince were great. Fili turned to swordplay to help ease them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and fun. Sigrid and Fili!

The pressures of being Crown Prince were a lot to bear, but Fili bore them well. However, even he needed a break from politics and lessons in ruling every now and then. So he found sanctuary in the training rings of Erebor. Thorin often reminded him that a king must not only be sharp of mind, but sharp of skill as well. He encouraged him to continue his swordsmanship, even going as far to assign him a student to give him an excuse to leave meetings early. Little Tilda, Bard's youngest child, took just as much delight in her lessons as Fili did in teaching them.

Tonight though was for him.

The training ring was abandoned in the night hour, the last dwarf vacating long before. Fili enjoyed it like this. The quiet was comforting and he found himself able to focus like never before. With each swing of his sword the tension from the day melted away. He forgot about the petty games of Court that was played amongst the nobles and he forgot about the treaties and papers he needed to study before approving. Here it was just him and his blade. Or so he thought.

"It is late, my prince. Do you not wish for a warm bed?"

The gentle voice broke Fili's concentration, causing him to stumble and drop his sword. Turning around, he felt a blush fan across his face at the sight of Sigrid giggling into her hand at his clumsiness.

He smiled despite himself, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Perhaps a bed would be best. I'm obviously useless with a sword right now," he joked, picking up his sword and twirling it in hand, only showing off a bit.

"Oh, I don't know. Before you became nervous in my presence I thought you looked quite impressive," Sigrid smiled, picking up her skirts so she could walk across the training sand. Fili couldn't help but swell with pride. She saw him practice his sword and found him impressive. It would make any man proud.

He was distracted from his pride by the feeling of her delicate hand ghosting across his own, under the guise of studying his sword.

"Show me?"

Her question was innocently poised, but he saw her eyes twinkle with mischief and alluring. In his mind his compared her to the young girl he knew just a few years before, but saw no trace of her now. Sigrid was a woman grown and it was both thrilling and nerve wracking.

Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, he gently took her hand and guided it to grip to pommel of his sword.

"Hold the handle firmly, but not stiffly. The blade is an extension of your arm," he explained, his voice pitched low. He encircled her with his other arm so they now held the blade together, she trapped in his embrace.

He slowly guided her through the basic forms of swordplay, his arms taking the brunt of the swords weight. All the while he whispered in her ear, explaining each part of what they were doing.

"You want to use your enemies force and weight against them. Do not meet their strikes with equal force, rather guide it away and pull them off balance. When they stagger, looking for their feet, is the time to strike," he explained, helping her thrust the sword into an imaginary enemy.

Fili felt her giggle and lightly press her back into his front.

"No imaginary enemy shall ever vanquish me," she teased.

Fili laughed along with her, his deep tenor chuckles harmonizing nicely with her delicate soprano laughter.

"Any enemy who does not fear you, daughter of Bard, is a fool indeed," he praised, tightening his grip on the lass. It felt so right, holding her in his arms. Despite the height difference between them it wasn't awkward. Fili's head fell right at her shoulder, allowing him a temptingly close look at her swan like neck. She was perfect.

Evidently she thought the same of him too, because she happily dipped her head low to brush gently against his check, a smile on contentment on her face.

For a moment Fili was sure she was going to kiss him, something he dearly wished for. Her lips came close, but stopped just before brushing against his.

"Thank you for the lesson, " she whispered, eyes twinkling merrily again. "Perhaps you can teach me more another time."

With that she dropped her grip on the sword and maneuvered herself out of his grip. She left him alone in the training ring with one last coy smile. It was a smile that filled his dreams that night, along with the feeling of her body pressed against his.

The next morning, during his lesion with Tilda, he asked the little princess if her sister would be interested in learning as well. The little girl looked at him in confusion.

"Sigrid is an excellent swordswoman. Why would she need lessons?"

She was even more confused at the dopey grin her teacher wore the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any thoughts on future stories, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	23. Dwalin/Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was nothing sexier than the smooth tones of a good saxophone. When Dwalin played he was sex incarnate and desired by all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Dwalin/Fili for you, set in the Jazz Age of the 1920's. Fili is a gender fluid person here, not that Dwalin cares what they have under their dress. ;) Enjoy!

There was nothing sexier than the smooth, sultry tones of a well played saxophone. At least, that was Dwalin’s humble opinion. When his tongue caressed that reed, coaxing forth those low notes, and his fingers danced across the keys he was sex incarnate. He wasn’t the only one to think so either.

The clubs loved him, those dirty underground bars that catered to folk of his kind. Outcasts and deviants, folk with jazz in their souls. Men danced with men and women danced with women, all to the tune of his ax. He could make them swoon with a sensual melody, or wild with frenzied passion that had them writhing against each other with a fast paced tempo. He held the power between his hands and it was intoxicating.

His last note of the night faded away to the enthusiastic applause of his drunken and drugged audience. He hid a smirk as he dipped his head low, his hat casting his face into the shadows. He bent down to pack his sax away, ready to head home for the evening. The sight of long, smooth legs in red pumps distracted him though. His eyes followed the legs up and up and up, over the tempting black sequins flapper dress over an enticingly draped over a fit body. Blond hair, carefully styled and curled, fell over toned shoulders and framed a pretty face. Bold, smoky makeup around blue eyes and lips painted the same red as the pumps on their feet. Gloved hands held a cigarette to those cherry lips, inhaling deeply with a coy smirk and releasing it in a great cloud.

“You play well,” they said, voice as smooth as his sax.

Dwalin gave stood and studied his admirer without shame. He liked what he saw.

“I got rhythm in my soul, baby. It’s a gift.”

His admirer’s smirk widened, showing off pearly white teeth and clashed with their lipstick.

“I can tell. It’s a shame you’re done playing for the night. I would like to hear more of your magic.”

There was a hint of offer in those words, one Dwalin found himself unable to turn down. Picking up his case, he offered the stranger he gave them a smirk and offered his arm.

“Then come with me, baby. I’ll play you some sweet music all night long.”

The stranger took his arm, pressing up close to him. They smelled like smoke and whisky, a tempting combination.

“I’m Fili,” they smiled up at him.

“Dwalin. Now let’s get out of here, baby.”

He brought them back to his place, a cramped little apartment with a piano tucked in the corner, half way in the kitchen. Fili made themselves at home on his bed, leaning back on their elbows and legs crossed like they had been at the club. It was a tempting sight.

“Come on then, baby. Play me some of that sweet music,” they asked, watching him with hooded eyes. Dwalin was happy to oblige. Shedding his jacket so he was just in his shirt, sleeves rolled up over muscled arms, he coaxed his instrument to life. The lusty notes sprang danced through the air and Fili’s eyes slid shut in ecstasy at the sound. Dwalin watched them with eager eyes as their body responded to his music. Every dip and rise had them panting with desire, a quick change of key had their breath hitching with delight. Their legs became uncrossed, giving the musician a tempting view of what lay beneath. Just a glimpse though. The rest would come later. He ended his song with one last dirty note.

“Like what you hear, baby,” he asked, smirking at the sight of his admirer. Fili watched him through hooded eyes.

“Your music plays me in a way no other lover has, but now I need that touch only a fine sax man can give me.”

Dwalin smirked, putting his instrument down. He slowly climbed onto of them, his legs dragging between theirs and rubbing at the desire there. Fili moaned at the contact, eagerly meeting his movements with gentle grinding of their hips.

“With pleasure, baby,” he growled, dipping low to graze at the bare neck. Fili shuddered in response. Dwalin was going to play them just like he played his instrument. By the time he was done, Fili would be ruined for all future lovers. With the same skill he showed in performing he brought them to their peak, again and again, only the way a sax man could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I hope you liked it as much as I liked writing it. :)
> 
> I was told by a reader that my stories weren't appearing in their news feed. I think I solved the issue. I kept forgetting to update the publication date with each chapter since the 22nd. If you guys are having any trouble seeing the updates please let me know. Hitting the subscribe to series button will also make sure you are getting the updates as they come.
> 
> Have any ideas of futures stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	24. Ori/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started out with an innocent hug. But it was a hug that had Ori realizing just how deep he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori/Thorin! Enjoy. :)

It started off so innocently, as these things are wont to do. A hug, warm and affectionate, it was meant to be between old acquaintances after a long time spent apart. It had been awhile. Ori had only been a small boy when the Durin family moved across the country in the hopes of finding a better life for themselves, leaving the Reson’s behind. Now he was grown, or very nearly, and had followed their footsteps in seeking his fortune elsewhere. It just so happened that the University he chose to attend was in the same town as his childhood friends. Fili and Kili were ecstatic to see him again and quickly invited him home with them to see the family. Dis greeted him with a smile and long embrace, but it was the hug that he received from Thorin that had his heart stuttering.

Privately he would admit that he always had a small crush on the much older man. He was everything Ori wanted in his life. A strong, father figure that guided and protected those under his care. He was handsome, confident, but gentle when needed. For a boy like Ori, who never knew his father and only had two overbearing brothers to look up to, Thorin was the perfect man. How was he to know that little crush would follow him into adulthood and have him pining for the one thing he couldn’t have.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, thinking over his situation. He was at the Durin household, celebrating Fili’s graduation with the family. The sound of music overlaid with raucous laughter poured out from the house and onto the deck Ori was hiding on. He wasn’t used to so many people and needed a break before rejoining the party. Unfortunately for him, taking a break also meant being alone with his thoughts, which meant they were at once consumed by the idea of Thorin. It was a vicious cycle. With a self-pitying sigh, he took a long draft of his drink, hoping that the bitter beer would chase away his silly crush.

“Why are you out here all alone?”

The deep voice had Ori choking on his drink, spewing and spitting the beer everywhere as he gasped for air. A large hand gave him a few hearty claps on the back, helping clear his airway. Ori looked up in surprise to see Thorin watching him with concern and a bit of amusement.

“You alright,” he asked, smiling softly. The young man found himself momentarily distracted by the sight, but quickly gathered his wits.

“U-um…yes. I-I’m fine, thank you.”

Thorin gave him another clap on the back, this one far gentler, before letting his hand fall. Despite the absence Ori still felt his palm like a brand, the phantom touch searing into his skin. He had to bite his tongue to stop from shuddering.

“Now that you’re not choking, maybe you can answer my question? Why are you out here alone?”

Ori shrugged, suddenly finding the label of his beer bottle so very interesting. His thumb came up the scratch at the paper, slowly tearing it away from the glass.

“Crowd’s a bit bigger than I’m used to, is all. Needed some air,” he answered honestly, though his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Somehow admitting that out loud and to Thorin of all people made it seem all very childish. Like he was a toddler in need of a timeout because he was exposed to too much stimulation. Hardly the impression you wanted to give your crush, however improbable they were.

Thorin, however, didn’t seem to think it was childish. In fact, he agreed with him.

“They are a boisterous lot,” he said with a fond smile, leaning onto the railing next to Ori. “To be honest I was also looking for a bit of peace when I found you out here.”

“Not that they aren’t nice people,” Ori hurriedly explained, not wanting to come off snobbish either. “Just, loud and a little nosy. Not that they made me uncomfortable or anything, but it’s a lot to handle and…” his rambling was thankfully cut short by Thorin’s deep chuckle.

“Ori, it’s alright. I’m the first person to admit that my family is full of busybodies who don’t know how to stay out of other people’s business. Don’t worry about it.”

Ori felt his face heating up in a blush again. He could never seem to say the right thing around Thorin. So many times when he was alone he would imagine just the right words and have the perfect response to any question the older man might ask him, coming off clever and confident and just the right amount of flirtatious. In his little day dreams he was everything he wanted to be and everything Thorin could ever want. But then he would meet the man in real life, and all his careful planning and practicing would fly out the window and instead of stuttering mess would be left behind. The real Ori. How tragic.

“You know, you’ve really grown up,” Thorin suddenly said, another fond smile on his face. This one was different though, it held something far deeper, though Ori didn’t know what it was. “You aren’t the little boy who used to tote books three times his size around to read.”

Thorin gazed at him with his icy blue eyes, but Ori found he couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Instead his focus dropped back down to his hands. He had almost completely peeled the label off the bottle.

“I certainly don’t feel grown,” he mumbled, more to himself but Thorin heard it all the same.

“You don’t see it, which I get. When I was your age I still felt like I was kid playing pretend. But I’ve seen you, when you aren’t worried about saying the wrong thing or letting your natural shyness keep you quiet, and it’s truly something else.”

Ori didn’t know quiet what to say to that. Peaking up through his red fringe he saw Thorin still watching him, that fond smile still on his face. The older man let him stay quiet. Instead he simply placed a strong hand on his shoulder, thumb massaging the junction between his neck and arm slowly.

“I’m going to head inside now. It was good talking with you, Ori.”

The young man nodded, finally able to speak and mumbled something back, though he didn’t know what. Thorin seemed to though, if his broading smile was anything to go by. His hand left Ori’s shoulder and came up to cup his cheek softly before leaving the deck and Ori behind.

The red haired man let out a shuddering breath. He had it bad. Very, very bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've all been there. Crushing on someone we really shouldn't be crushing on, getting in situations like Ori here where physical contact is initiated and all the hard work you put in to convincing yourself you're over that crush comes tumbling down. It's the worst! Haha!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	25. BofurxNori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur was sure he was going insane. That was the only reasonable explanation. If he wasn't going insane than the oven was haunted, and he wasn't sure that was the better option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BofurxNori, a platonic story. I'm sure most of you have picked up on this by now, but I feel like I should clarify. When a story is written like NAME/NAME, it means it's a romance story with those characters. When it's NAMExNAME, it's just platonic. Just in case anyone was confused, though I doubt there are. :) Enjoy!

Bofur was sure he was going insane. It was the only reasonable, _logical_ explanation. After all, a sane person wouldn’t imagine think his oven was haunted, but all the evidence pointed to it. It wasn’t even that great of an oven! It was a bargain buy off of Craigslist, and seeing as Nori ruined their last one doing god knows what with it, it seemed the logical move. The ad was simple enough, with a picture of the plain, out of date oven and stove combo. White and black, the glass was a little stained from years of use and the burners weren’t the best. But at it worked and was being sold for $75 or the best offer. Bofur got it for $50.

The man, red haired and younger than him by a few years, seemed eager to get rid of it. Only when Bofur had it loaded into his borrowed truck did he say why.

“Just be careful. I’m pretty sure that thing is haunted,” he said, biting his lip as if he knew just how crazy he sounded. Bofur quirked an amused eyebrow.

“Haunted? Never heard of an oven being possessed.”

The man sighed and gave a shrug.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck with it. I’m just glad it’s going. Have a safe drive now.”

That was the last he said of it before scurrying back into his house. Bofur didn’t know what it was, but something about that man seemed familiar to him. Obviously it wasn’t too important, or he would have been able to place the feeling. So he just climbed into the truck and with a cheery whistle drove off.

The first week everything was fine. It was nice being able to have warm meals again. The temperature was a little off, but he was able to accurately judge it within two meals, and soon he and Nori were enjoying fresh lasagna and baked chicken again.

“Good find, Bof,” his roommate complimented after a particularly tasty dinner. He had all but licked his plate clean.

“It sure was. Can you believe the guy thought it was haunted?”

Nori laughed along with him. It really was ridiculous.

The next week is when strange things began to happen.

He had planned on making a casserole for dinner. Something that they could wrap up and eat as leftovers in the week to come. It was Bombur’s special recipe and Bofur was looking forward to it. He even bought a good beer to go with it. At a quarter to five he popped it into the oven and set his little egg timer for an hour. Then he left to do other things around the apartment.

He was in the middle of doing laundry, when the timer went off, filling the house with the buzz like ringing. He went to the kitchen and got out his oven mitts, his stomach beginning to growl with anticipation of the hot meal. Imagine his surprise when he opened the oven door and instead of seeing a lovely baked beef and tater tot casserole with extra cheese he found a chocolate Bundt cake, the top sprinkled with icing sugar. Even stranger, when he went to take the cake out, he found that the oven wasn’t hot at all. Like he forgot to turn it on.

The front door of the apartment opened and Nori walked in.

“Hey! Got dinner ready? I’m famished.”

The red head walked up to him with a grin.

“Aw, Bofur, you know I’m watching my figure,” the man laughed, setting his bag down.

Bofur looked at him with confusion.

“Nori, did you make this,” he asked, putting the cake on the counter. Nori frowned.

“No. I just got back. Why?”

“It’s just, I was planning on making the Cowboy Casserole tonight and I was sure I put it in the oven. But this was there instead.”

Nori opened the fridge, ready to grab a beer. He stopped short.

“You mean this casserole?”

Bofur looked in the fridge. Sure enough there was his casserole, nestled between the milk and eggs and not at all cooked.

“Huh. I guess I didn't put it in. Strange.”

Nori laughed again, taking the dish out.

“Hitting the bottle a bit early, are we Bof?”

The pigtailed man laughed with him. He had had a few beers earlier, though he didn’t feel at all tipsy. Still, it must have been what happened.

So they had dinner an hour later than usual, but nibbled on the cake while they waited. They finished all the beer as well.

Bofur forgot about the incident the next morning and it would have remained forgotten if it weren’t for the fact that it kept happening. The first few times he brushed it off. He was hardly known for his memory and why would he complain about cake? He loved cake.

But then it kept happening. Again and again. Lasagna would go in, a birthday cake complete with candles would come out. Fish fillets turned into cupcakes. The worst was when he had planned to have a leg of lamb for when their friends came over but instead got a three-tiered weeding cake!

“Nori, I think that bloke was right. This oven is haunted!”

Nori frowned.

“It works well enough for me.”

And it was true. When it was Nori’s turn to cook his meals always came out as they should, no cake insight. It was just Bofur. It was driving him insane. He wasn’t getting enough sleep because of this, his mind racing as he thought of any possible explanation for what was going on. He was moody, agitated, crazed! Even Bifur had commented on his mood swings.

After three months of this he finally had enough.

It was his turn to make dinner that night. Mechanically he mixed his ingredients. A simple chicken pot pie. A recipe he had been making since he was just a boy at his mama’s knee. It was something he could make in his sleep and it would come out perfect. Once it was ready he placed it in the oven and then dragged a chair to the center of the kitchen. He sat down, arms crossed, and glared at the oven. He was going to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

The pot pie took an hour and a half to cook. Unfortunately, Bofur fell asleep twenty minutes it.

He was woken by the sound of the oven door opening. Startling awake, he saw Nori crouched on the kitchen floor, bright pink oven mitts on his hands and a sheepish grin on his face.

“Just checking to see if it was done,” he chuckled, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes told Bofur he was lying. The pigtailed man looked for him roommate, to the oven, and then to the counter, where round cake covered in rainbow frosting sat in a box. It all clicked in his mind.

“Oh, you bastard!”

Nori, knowing his game was up, laughed uproariously, falling to his ass with the half cooked pot pie still in his hands.

“I can’t believe I had you for three months. _Three_ months, Bofur!”

The other man groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. Of course the oven wasn’t haunted. Nori was just having a laugh at him. Suddenly he realized why the man he brought it from seemed familiar to him. The red hair should have been a dead giveaway, but to be fair, his brother had red hair and he reminded him nothing of his roommate.

“That was your brother, wasn’t it? Ori. The one I haven’t met yet.”

Nori gave him a cheeky grin.

“Ya, that was him. He recognized your name from the email you sent him and asked me about it. He was quite happy to go along with this idea.”

Bofur found himself chuckling along, seeing the humor in the whole thing. It was pretty funny.

“What did you do with all my cooking?”

Nori shrugged.

“Gave it to the old lady in 120B. She loves your cooking.”

At least he wasn’t throwing it in the trash. Bofur sighed, leaning back in his chair with a grin on his face.

“I gained three pounds for all that cake, by the way. And you’re now on dinner duty for a month!”

Nori shrugged and put the pot pie back in the oven.

“Fair enough. Though I can’t believe you actually thought the oven was haunted.”

Bofur was just glad he wasn’t insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3  
> I just baked some cupcakes for an Easter potluck tomorrow and they're vanilla dyed green with chocolate icing and sprinkles to look like a nest and mini Cadbury Eggs on top. They're pretty adorable, so naturally I instagramed them. I hope you enjoyed this! It was fun to write.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	26. Bilbo/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Thorin. I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin/Bilbo. Enjoy!

Dear Thorin, 

It’s been ten years since that horrid day. The day I lost you. And yet this is the first time I’ve been able to take a quill to paper and write down the words I have long since wanted to say to you without turning coward and running away. I do that a lot, you see. Run away. I ran away when you said those words in the Misty Mountains, though the goblins pulled me back in. I ran away from the spiders of Mirkwood and left you all to fend for yourself. And then I ran away after you threw me from Erebor, so angry at my theft of the Arkenstone. I never looked back. Not once. Which brings me to the reason I have been so scared and ashamed to speak with you. The Arkenstone.

Oh, it was a beautiful gem, I won’t deny that. But to me, a hobbit of the Shire, it held no real worth outside of it’s exterior beauty. Though I admit, it was a bit more special to me because I knew it was special to you. In the end it was just a rock. A pretty, shiny little rock. Yet it was the reason for your madness. Not the only reason, granted, but the piece that would have sent you far over the edge and you would have been lost to us forever. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you, not when I had the means to stop it. So I gave it to your imagined enemies, to Thranduil and Bard. Thranduil wanted only to lord this victory over you, but Bard’s people were in dire need of help. Like your own people when Smaug had come and forced you to flee into the wilds. I thought I was doing the right thing.

You saw it differently.

I still dream of that night. I wake up in cold sweats and hoarse screams. I feel your hands wrapped around my neck and have to rush to my mirror to check for bruising. There never is any, but I still check. More than the battle, more than Smaug in his infinite terror, those dreams scare me the most. Sometimes you finish the deed, throw me off the wall and to the rocks below. Sometimes you are more sinister and I am thrown into a dark dungeon to rot away from the sun. Those dreams are the worst, and I have trouble sleeping for the days to come.

Frodo makes things easier. I was so bitter when I came home, so lonely and aching for the company I had lost. Frodo, my cousin and new ward, brought that to me. He is the only good in my life I must admit.

I’m not sorry for what I did, Thorin. You were crazed, could not see the damage that was being done. And you were scared. I know that now. You had such a hard life that when all your dreams came true you couldn’t help but be wary. What new threat would appear and take all you hold dear? Life had been so cruel to you in the past that you were ready for it to be so again. I think that is why you fell so easily to the Gold Sickness, because you were always waiting for things to go wrong. I won’t apologize for taking the Arkenstone in the hopes of curing you. I will apologize for not trying to do more. For not telling you the truth because I was a coward. But here it is now.

I love you, Thorin Oakenshield. I loved you since that night Balin told us of your glory in Moria. I loved you greater still when you shared with me the ruin of your line in Rivendell. My heart was lost to you at the Carrock when you embraced me and held me so dearly. And my heart was lost when you left this world, leaving me behind and alone.

Forgive me for not telling you, Thorin. Perhaps if I had things would have turned out differently. But I didn’t and now you are dead. Another thing I am sorry for.

You will never read this letter (how could you, being entombed in stone until the world is remade?), but I think I shall send it along to Erebor anyway. Perhaps Balin will be so kind as to leave it on your tomb, along with some flowers for the boys. Fili and Kili loved when I taught them the secret hobbit language of flowers. Some heather and daisies would do nicely for them. For you, though, I would have left yellow tulips. Only those.

I hope we may meet again in the next world, Thorin. Perhaps then I will find my courage and be able to tell you all that I couldn’t while we lived.

 

With all my heart and soul, yours faithfully, 

Bilbo Baggins, Your Burglar.

 

 

**Dear Master Baggins,**

**You are forgiven, though it is my apology that should be the one given. And I would not take your yellow tulips. From you I will only take red. Nothing else.**

**Yours always, in this life and the next,**

**Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Yours Most Devoted.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst with some hope at the end. I will leave it up to you to decide how it ends. This won't be a multi-chapter story. :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	27. Sigrid/Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid hated the cold. Luckily she had someone to take it away.

She hated the cold. She hated it with all the passion of a million suns, which would have been nice to have on hand because then at least she would be warm! Sigrid grumbled at the chill, burrowing deeper into her blankets and refusing to move. Outside snow fell at a steady pace, making for a pretty scene. She hated that as well. Snow not only made things colder but wet as well. Being wet and cold was by far the worst thing that could ever happen.

Somewhere a door opened and booted feet walked along wood flooring. She recognized the gait at once, a soft smile coming onto her face. Tauriel was home.

“You’re still in bed,” the red haired woman asked, standing in the bedroom doorway. Sigrid peeked out from beneath her cocoon of blankets to see her girlfriend giving her a fond smile.

“It’s cold,” she whined, jutting her lower lip out in a pout.

Tauriel sighed, coming in to sit on the bed.

“That’s because the heater in here is broken, silly. I called a repairman but he won’t be able to make it until Tuesday. This snow is holding everyone up.”

Sigrid groaned at that, letting her head retreat further back into her blankets. Tauriel laughed at that, one hand coming up on gently pat her covered head.

“I don’t get it! It’s spring! Why is there snow?”

She felt the bed shift as Tauriel maneuvered about to take her boots off.

“Because we live in the north and it’s only the first week of spring. We have a few more cold weeks before we break out the tank tops and shorts.”

That was the worst news she could possibly give her.

“Let’s move south. Where they go to the beach all year round and the temperature never drops below 50. I want a tan in January!”

“Alright, sounds like a plan. Until then, I’ll just have to keep you warm myself.”

Sigrid squealed at the blankets were quickly picked up, but sighed happily as the cold air was replaced with the warm body of her girlfriend. Tauriel tucked the comforter around them securely, locking in their warmth, and wrapped her arms around Sigird.

“Better,” she asked. Sigird didn’t reply, just smiled and snuggled into her embrace. This was perfect.

Soon the other woman’s fingers were combing through her hair and she began to softly hum beneath her breath. Between the gentle ministrations of her girlfriend and the enveloping warmth Sigrid soon found herself drifting off to sleep. Neither of them had any important plans that day, so a nap sounded like the perfect way to spend the hours.

Just before she fell asleep, she whispered, “I love you.”

She felt soft lips kiss her forehead gently and heard the equally soft reply.

“I love you, too.”

The cold didn’t bother her anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are so cute! Love them. :)
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	28. Bofur/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori took pride in his craft, enjoying sharing it with others and hearing their thoughts in return. But there was one dwarf who seemed reluctant to do just that with the scribe. He was determined to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a Bofur/Ori. I hope I did it justice. Enjoy! :)

Ori was quite proud of his craft. It may not be as glorious as forging or honorable as the warrior’s path, but to be a scribe was a special thing. To simply write things down was an easy enough thing and took very little skill, but to transcribe the great history of Dwarrow kind, to spin wonderous tales of a battles long past and remember the stories of old was another thing entirely. Ori had been too young to remember Erebor, but through his training as a scribe he had come to live a thousands lives in that Mountain, and a thousand more in the mountains before it.

As much as he took pride in his craft he knew he was still learning and as such was open to criticism of his work. So when the Company reached Beorn’s and there was at last a few days where they could simply breath he began to circulate the first rough drafts of his interpretation of their journey. He valued their opinions greatly and thought that they deserved input into this great tale. After all, they were all on the same great adventure together. It wouldn’t be right to simply write it from his perspective.

To his modest pleasure the Company greatly enjoyed his work, singing high praise of what he had written so far. Each had their own suggestions on things to add, something Ori gladly took into account. Fili thought he should illustrate their weapons in-between chapters for reader’s enjoyment. Kili said he should write down all the songs they had made up along the journey (though Bilbo got quite ruffled when this started a rendition of “That’s What Bilbo Baggins’ Hates” among the dwarves, especially when Thorin joined in). Bilbo himself offered to tell him of his own trials when he had been separated from the dwarves, such as with the trolls, his own exploration of Rivendell, and what happened in Goblin town (though unbeknownst to Ori it would be a severely edited down version. Bilbo saw no reason that he should tell him of the ring he found. No, best keep that to himself.)

Ori was quite happy with the response he got and happily wrote down each suggestion given to him. Even Thorin praised his work, going as far to say that when Erebor was reclaimed his talent would be of great benefit to the dwarves. That had him blushing and stammering, never having received such a compliment. Dori beamed with pride on his behalf.

However, there was one dwarf that had not come to Ori with his thoughts on his work. Bofur had been the last dwarf to receive his draft after everyone else had read it but had only returned it with a strained smile and vague words that Ori could neither make heads or tails of it. When he pressed the normally cheery dwarf grew evasive and found excuses to end their conversation quickly, leaving Ori confused and hurt. Naturally he assumed Bofur’s odd behavior simply meant that he didn’t like what he had wrote and was simply too kind to tell him as such. It made sense. After all, Bofur was a master storyteller, spending many an evening regaling the Company of stories of old that had them all eagerly listening until the end. No doubt Ori’s amateur work was severely lacking when compared to his own skills. Still, how did the older dwarf expect him to learn if he did not tell him where me may improve? Or did he think he was truly so horrible at the art that there was no chance for improvement, even if his shortcomings were pointed out. Ori had to know why. That night, after dinner and when the Company had broken out into small groups to talk, the little scribe sought out the miner.

He was sitting by the window with Oin and Bilbo, smoking a newly carved pipe and discussing old lore from the Shire, Erebor, and Ered Luin.

“Mister Bofur,” he interrupted with a smile, nodding to the other two. “Might I steal you away for a few moments?”

The miner looked reluctant, though he hid it well. Ori was not perturbed, keeping his polite smile on his face. Bilbo answered for his friend.

“Of course, Ori. We were just finishing up here,” the hobbit said with a smile, gesturing with his pipe for Bofur to go ahead with Ori. The miner sighed, patting out his pipe and standing up.

“Alright, lad.”

The scribe led him away to a back room, somewhere private so they might speak honestly.

Once he was sure they were out of hearing range, he spoke.

“Mister Bofur, you are the only one of the Company to not give me your thoughts on my first attempt at writing our journey. Please understand I will take no offense if you think poorly of my work, rather I welcome any criticism from a master storyteller such as yourself. So please, tell me what you think.”

It was blunt but polite, but Ori saw no need to be subtle. They were comrades in arms, having faced many dangers together already and no doubt face more in the future. Bofur deserved his candor.

The miner sighed, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. His eyes were sad and his shoulders hunched, like he was embarrassed. It confused Ori.

“I don’t think your work is poor, lad. From what Bombur told me of it’s far from it. It’s just…I can’t read.”

This was said in all a hushed whisper, full of shame and regret.

“You can’t read?”

Ori’s question seemed to embarrass the miner even more, which he hurriedly tried to remedy.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he hastily reassured. “Lots of people can’t read. Even Nori couldn’t until I taught him a few years back.”

Bofur sighed.

“My family has always been miners. Bombur can read a little, enough to get by and the like. Mam taught him what she knew from the recipes she had. I know some letters, my name, and little words, but nothing to brag about.”

“But what about the contract? You had to read and sign the contract to come on this journey.”

Bofur gave him a sheepish smile.

“Balin gave us the barebones and just said there would be free beer. Seemed like a fair enough trade.”

Ori went quiet, thinking over this new information. Reading was one of his greatest pleasures and to hear that one of his friends couldn’t even find out for himself if he too enjoyed such things broke his heart. And made his next decision quite easy.

“I will teach you,” he offered, a determined glint in his eye.

Bofur looked hesitant to accept.

“I can’t ask that of you, lad.”

Ori shook his head.

“I’m not asking, Mister Bofur. I’m telling you. I _will_ teach you to read. By the time we reach the Mountain you will be able to read my story to the end and tell me your opinion. That’s a promise!”

Bofur smiled softly at his determination.

“Alright then. If you’re willing to be my teacher than I accept.”

Ori beamed happily at him.

A year later, when the Mountain was recovered and their grief still to fresh in their mind Ori walked to his little office. Dain Ironfoot, now King Under the Mountain, saw the same potential in Ori and his craft that his late cousin had, and appointed him Head Scribe of Erebor. It was a title he took with solemnness and little joy. It should have been Thorin, his _true_ King, bestowing the title on him. It seemed hollow coming from Dain.

He entered his office with a sigh, grateful for the privacy. To his surprise his finished story of their Journey was sitting in the center of his desk, though he had placed it on his shelf that morning. Next to it was a note, written in unsteady runes. He recognized the writing at once and it cause his heart to flutter in his chest.

**_I could have not written our story any better._ **

**_Bofur_ **

With a soft smile he gently slipped the note between the back pages of his journal. It was a treasure he would never part with. Perhaps he could speak with the miner when he returned from Moria. No doubt he would like to read that tale as well.

Ori’s heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	29. Dwalin/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin never imagined he would be in this position, having never felt a hint of romantic interest in another person before. That was before Kili, though.

It wasn’t a situation Dwalin ever thought to find himself in, asking for the blessing of another dwarf to marry his One. After living so long without a spark of romantic interest in another being, dwarrow or otherwise, he had simply assumed such a life wasn’t for him. It wasn’t unheard of, a dwarf not feeling romantic love, so it didn’t bother him. He was much more interested in honing his skills as a warrior and bringing honor to his family name. This was all before he met Kili, though. _Truly_ met him.

He had known the lad his whole life, having been in the parlor alongside Thorin, Frerin, and Vili while Dis birthed him in the adjacent room. He had been the fifth dwarf to hold him, after his parents and uncles. Dwalin had seen him grow from a squalling baby to a mischievous child to an arrogant young man to the proud prince he had become. Yet in all that time he had never looked at the lad in any other way save family, and later, friendship. It wasn’t until Kili himself approached him, shortly before the Battle of Five Armies (Ori was quite proud his name had taken hold). Dressed in finery of his ancestors, he looked every inch of the Durin prince he was. Dwalin had lowered his eyes and bowed his head in respect, as was fitting. The young prince stopped before him, eyes determined and far too old for his age. The older warrior hated seeing him like that.

“Dwalin, son of Fundin,” he began rather formally, back straight, legs spread, and arms clasped behind his back. “I, Kili, son of Vili, Second Prince to the Throne of Erebor and Son of Durin, do ask that you take this favor of mine to keep you safe on the field of battle.” Dwalin recognized the rune stone in his hand and the craftsman behind it. He took it, turning it about in his hand so he might see all sides. He looked up to see Kili watching him with the same determined look on his face, but now a blush had fanned across his cheeks.

“When this is all over, and the battle is won, I would like to court you in the ways of our people. If you accept, that is.”

Suddenly the older dwarf felt his heart beating in a way it never had before. It was terrifying but thrilling as well. He didn’t need to think of his answer, just like he didn’t need to think when he took the stone.

“I do.”

That was nearly two years ago and much had happened. Now he sat in a parlor room, vastly different from the one he sat in 79 years prior where he waited to welcome the new born prince, yet similar in some ways. Thorin, for one, was there, giving him a mighty glare from where he sat. Dwalin wasn’t perturbed, having grown up alongside the King since infancy and knowing every brooding look and icy glower in his arsenal. It would take a lot more to intimidate him.

“You want to marry Kili,” Thorin spoke through clenched teeth. Dwalin rolled his eyes.

“For the thousandth time, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I love him, that’s why. What a stupid question!”

The king growled beneath his breath, but continued Dwalin held his own.

“He’s a prince of Erebor. He deserves only the best.”

The implication was clear and now it was Dwalin’s turn to glare.

“Piss off! You knew this was where the relationship was headed the minute the lad initiated Courtship. And I know he deserves the best. That’s why I strive to give it to him every day.”

The two dwarrow glared at each other, subtly posturing from their seats and daring the other to back down. Dwalin suddenly smirked at Thorin.

“Besides, I don’t need your blessing,” he gloated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment, brandishing the wax seal at the bottom. Thorin recognized it at once. “Dis has already given it.”

Thorin looked gutted at the revelation. He slumped in his seat and cradled his forehead with one of his hands.

“I have been betrayed.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes at the dramatics, though it was so typically Thorin that he honestly wasn’t surprised.

Getting up from his seat, he rustled about his in other pocket and drew a second item out.

“Here,” he grunted, shoving his open palm beneath Thorin’s eye so he could see. Three gold beads, masterfully made and intricately carved, rolled about in his hands. Thorin curiously plucked one from the pile and studied it.

“I intend to give these to him. Made ‘em myself. Took me months to get it right,” Dwalin explained, though his words came out in a gruff mumble. He wasn’t known for speaking eloquently of his feelings, but just like he knew how to read Thorin after all these years, Thorin knew the same for him.

The king’s face softened into a resigned smile.

“He’ll love them,” he reassured, placing the bead back into his hand. Dwalin curled his first around them, taking comfort in the feel.

“You think so?”

Thorin nodded.

“I do.”

The king stood from his seat and clapped him heartily on his back.

“I could not ask for a better dwarrow to hold my nephew’s heart. You’re a good dwarf, Dwalin, and you have my blessing.”

The warrior grinned, looking down at his feet to hide his embarrassment.

“Now all you have to do is get Fili’s.”

He felt his heart drop into his stomach. He forgot about the other brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, Dwalin! Seriously, there is something about big gruff warriors that make me want to cuddle them and write them with ridiculously cute personalities. :3 I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	30. Thorin/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin wasn't known for his social skills. But talking with the little dwarf was so easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Ori. Enjoy!

Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, Crown Prince Under the Mountain, was known as many things. A practiced warrior, a skilled smith, a just leader, and sure to be a great king. However, none within the Mountain would ever describe the prince as being full of social graces. In fact, the exact opposite was said more often than not. He was gruff, often said things that could be taken the wrong way, lacked all charm when it came to foreign diplomats, and lacked any and all social graces one would expect from a dwarf of his station. Frerin called him a cold, wet mop. Dis said he was simply shy. Both agreed that the only cure for this was to get out more. They got their chance with the annual Durin’s Day Celebration.

“Wipe that scowl off your face, brother mine! You’ll scare our guests to death,” Frerin teased, poking a finger at the corner of Thorin’s stern mouth. The older dwarf simply batted his hand away and glared at him.

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Too bad! Father said you must put in an appearance and stay until at least dessert. No skulking off to your workshop,” Dis interrupted, a satisfied smirk on her own face. “This will do you good. Get you out of your shell!”

He highly doubted that. Unfortunately, his father had told him much the same thing. No taking an early exit and he had to speak with at least one stranger this evening, or else Thrain would give him extra duties in Court, specifically negotiations with the elves of Mirkwood. Thorin was willing to suffer through an awkward five-minute conversation with a fellow dwarf if it meant avoiding hours of interaction with Thranduil, the arrogant tree-shagger.

Dinner hadn’t been so bad. Being royalty had many perks, among those you had a dining table at public events far from the crowd and with very people privileged enough to dine alongside you. He at least spoke with those at his table in business like settings at one point or another and was able to make small talk with them over trivial things. Trade agreements, political atmosphere in the west, things such as that. However, when the plates were carried away and the tables pushed aside for dancing and mingling he knew his luck had run out. Dessert wouldn’t be served for at least another hour, well after those attending the celebration had danced and drank themselves into a stupor, and Thorin’s siblings were watching him like a hawk.

“Come on, brother! Up you get,” Frerin grinned, pulling him up from his seat. Thorin very reluctantly allowed him to manhandle him down to the crowds, Dis carrying up the rear to stop him from making any retreat.

“Breath, Thorin. It’s not like we’re sending you to Mordor,” Dis laughed, herding him forward when his steps faltered.

“Mordor would be kinder.”

He didn’t understand all the fuss his family put into his loner ways. It didn’t interfere with his work as Crown Prince and he was able to rule well despite his lack of social charm. Just because he preferred his own company or that of a few close friends meant nothing. It was just simply how he was.

Being forced to mingle with strangers he did not know and talk about things he had no great interest in would not help him become a better king or encourage him to get out more. In fact, as he mentally cringed at the piercing voice of some dwarrowdam noble from the Iron Hills croon on and on about her skill in jewel work, it might have just the opposite effect.

“Really, Prince Thorin, you must come to the Iron Hills. I can only describe the delicate art of my jewels to an extent. To see them in person is a whole other experience,” the woman exclaimed with a high, breathy laugh. Thorin gave what he thought was a polite smile, but the choking sound Frerin was making into his goblet told him that he missed the mark. Dis glared at him, subtly elbowing the second prince in the ribs. The wince he gave showed that it wasn’t a gentle nudge.

“Perhaps someday, Lady Berga. Unfortunately, the duties of Crown Prince don’t allow much personal time. Even less for seeing a trinkets and baubles.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Thorin knew he said the wrong thing. The Iron Hills dwarrowdam’s smile slid off and her eyes became icy. Dis looked at him with disappointment and Frerin was once again laughing into his drink. Feeling the onset of humiliation Thorin quickly made a retreat.

“Excuse me.”

He turned and walked off, not at all caring if his siblings reported him to his father and he was forced to go to Mirkwood for a month of negotiations. He couldn’t stand it any longer. Luckily neither of his siblings followed him, allowing him to find some peace on a nearby balcony.

As soon as he exited the crowded ball room it was like a rope that had been tied around his lungs was loosened. Suddenly he could breath and it was much easier to think. He took deep breaths of the cold night air, allowing it fill his body before letting it out in a rush. He did this for awhile, simply breath in and out as he gained control of himself again. When that happened he finally took the chance to look around. The large balcony was mostly empty, with just a few couples in the shadows quietly talking to each other. He ignored them, walking to a spot that was empty. Or he thought was empty. As he neared he saw a small dwarf with red hair sitting in the corner, a book propped open at his knees, straining to read by the torch light from inside.

He meant to turn around right then and there, having no desire to see another person for awhile yet. But when he turned around and saw the crowd behind him, he found that he couldn’t do it. He took his chance with the strange dwarf.

“Excuse me,” he said, startling the small dwarf who looked up at him with big brown eyes. “May I sit here?”

The dwarf looked at the empty spot next to him, a bit confused, but nodded nonetheless.

“Yes, of course.”

Thorin nodded in thanks and sat down, the other dwarf shifting to the side a bit to give him more room. To his relief the stranger returned to his book, though with Thorin now sitting where he was he had very little light. Still, he tried. Curiously, Thorin looked at the book and was surprised he recognized it.

“Dagnor’s collection of poetry from the second age?”

Again, the little dwarf seemed startled by him despite knowing Thorin was right beside him. He shyly nodded, a soft smile coming onto his face.

“Yes. He is one of my favorites,” he admitted. Thorin felt himself smiling.

“I agree. His poem on the love of Durin and his First Wife is heartbreaking.”

 “Did you know Dagnor’s inspiration for that poem was his own experience with love?”

“No, I didn’t.”

The little dwarf excitedly nodded, braids flying around his face.

“Yes. He loved a soldier and was loved in return. Shortly after their courtship vows were recited though, he died in battle. Dagnor was a wretch for the years to come, but eventually used the pain of his lost love to write such beautiful poetry. It’s amazing.”

Thorin smiled at his enthusiasm. He liked this little dwarf.

“I am Thorin, son of Thrain and house Durin.”

The little dwarf smiled shyly at him.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Thorin. I am Ori, son of Kori and House Ri.”

Thorin recognized the name. It was a lower house of nobility that was active in the Weaver and Scribe’s Guild. Balin was fond of them.

“Do you read poetry often, Master Ori?”

The red haired dwarf nodded.

“Among other things, my prince. I am training to be a scribe so histories and legal tomes take up most of my time, but poetry is my favorite.”

Thorin smiled, nodding along.

“I can understand that. I spend hours upon hours pouring over treaties and contracts until my eyes feel crossed. However, I can spend hours longer reading poems without feeling strained.”

“What are some of your favorite works?”

They talked for hours, the two of them discussing favorite poets and debating the deeper meaning of popular sonnets. They didn’t notice the party inside dying down or the sun beginning to peak above the horizon. In fact, it wasn’t until Dis found them huddled together that they realized just how much time passed.

“Thorin, Father is looking for you. He wants you to speak with the Blue Mountain nobles before they leave this afternoon.”

Thorin reluctantly nodded and stood from his spot. His back ached from staying in the same position for so long, but he couldn’t find himself regretting it.

“It was a pleasure speaking with you, Master Ori.”

The little dwarf smiled up at him.

“The pleasure was all mine, my prince.”

Thorin bowed in farewell and turned to join Dis, but found himself stopping short. He turned back.

“May I see you again, Master Ori? I would like to hear your opinion of Narn’s saga of The Mirrored Halls.”

Ori smiled shyly at him and nodded.

“I would like that, Prince Thorin. Very much.”

Thorin gave him a small grin in return before hurrying to Dis’ side.

“Who was that,” his sister slyly asked.

Thorin shrugged.

“Ori, of House Ri,” he replied but said nothing more. He didn’t have to. Dis could read him like a book and recognized the look in her brother’s eyes. It was the start of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of love between these two. Thoughts?
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, ideas, pairings, AUs.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


	31. Bilbo/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This day had not happened in nearly eighty years, longer still for it to take place in Erebor. The presentation of a prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo to end the month of March. Inspired by watching the video of the cast of The Lion King singing on the plane. :) Enjoy!

Today was a very special day, one that hadn’t been seen in nearly eighty years. Longer still for this day to be celebrated in Erebor. Dis had been the last. Today was the presentation of the newest member to the line of Durin. A prince born not three weeks past to the King and his Consort. Needless to say the excitement was palpable.

“He’s so tiny,” Thorin said in awe, his massive hand easily cradling the small body of his son. Bilbo smiled at the display. Frodo’s tiny size never ceased to amaze his husband and he had often found him staring at their son in wonder for hours on end.

“Perfect size for a fauntling,” he replied, tucking his blanket more securely around him. Erebor was chilly and it wouldn’t do for Frodo to catch a cold.

Thorin seemed unconvinced.

“Perhaps we should delay this for another month. He’ll be bigger then, less vulnerable.”

Bilbo gave him an indulgent look. Parenthood had gifted him with not only a son, but a new found patience as well. Every little worry Thorin had he carefully explained away. Frodo had the hiccups. Bilbo calmly explained it was because he ate too quickly, no need to call Oin in the middle of the night. Frodo was crying, despite having been fed, changed, and cuddled. The hobbit had to reassure him that sometimes babies just cried. He would stop soon enough. The latest of these worries was over his size. Apparently dwarrow babes were closer to the size of human children when they were born, with a head full of hair and wispy bits of beard. Hobbit fauntlings were a quarter of this size, which explained why hobbits were able to have so many during once pregnancy. Such small things were able to fit nicely side by side, like little interlocking blocks. Thorin nearly fainted at the idea of more than one child at a time.

“We aren’t going far, Thorin. Just to the balcony so everyone can see. Balin will give a small speech, Gandalf will present him to the kingdom, and we’ll all be back in time for afternoon tea.”

The great dwarf still seemed reluctant. He brought his second hand up to carefully brush a stray curl out of Frodo’s eyes. That was his dwarvish heritage. No hobbit was born with hair, except that on their feet, and none had locks as black as night. Frodo did, though. The little boy snuffled in his sleep before giving a soft sneeze. Thorin smiled softly at the reaction, eye entranced by the beauty of his offspring.

“Truly Mahal has blessed us with such a perfect child.”

Bilbo sighed happily, leaning against his husband’s arm so he too could marvel at his son.

“Yavanna certainly had a hand in it, I assure you.”

Thorin nodded, raising his arm to allow Bilbo a space to cuddle in. The hobbit gratefully took it.

“Stone is too hard, unyielding and cold. Plants are fleeting and fragile. Together, though, they make a something truly remarkable.”

A soft knock came from their door before Fili poked his head inside.

“It’s nearly time, uncles. All are assembled.”

Thorin nodded.

“Thank you, Fili. We’ll be along in a moment.”

The blond prince bowed his head respectfully before disappearing, shutting the door behind him.

Thorin sighed, taking one last look at his son.

“Are you sure we can’t wait a month longer?”

Bilbo laughed, taking Frodo from Thorin’s grip and slipping him into the blue embroidered sling around his neck. A birthing gift from Dori, and quite handy as well.

“No, my king. But I promise you this: if you present our son to the kingdom this afternoon, he won’t have to leave the safety of the palace for another six months.”

That has the dwarf perking up.

“I will hold you to that, _ghivashel_. Come,” he said and offered his consort his arm. “We have a prince to show off to the world.”

Bilbo took it and followed Thorin’s lead out of the rooms. He spared a glance down at his sleeping son, his heart swelling at the surge of love he felt for this little boy. The little boy didn’t know it yet, that he was the most loved child in the world, but he would in time. Bilbo and Thorin wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw! Baby Frodo. I bet he has the biggest blue eyes. :3 I won't say who the birth parent is or the sire. I'll leave it up for you all to decide. It's more fun that way!
> 
> March is done! Wow! I can't believe we're already done with a quarter of the year. Before you know it summer will be past and I'll be writing a Halloween story. Things to look forward to, I guess.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories, pairings, AUs, etc.,? I take requests and read them all. Thanks for reading!


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